The Light on the Waves
by Rayless Night
Summary: S3. Before there was a Second Fire Bringer War, before there was a one eyed mercenary captain, before there was a sabre bathed in blood, there was a young woman and a heavy burden. :The story is on permanent hiatus.:
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Explanation: The first thing I'll clear up is that this story centers around Queen from Suikoden 3, but it has spoilers from pretty much every Suikoden title.  
_

_What the canon says about Queen's past: she was born in the Solar Year 445. She comes from Sanady, which was overrun by Harmonia. She's interested in literature and music, which seems to indicate she had an aristocratic background. She's been a third-class citizen in Crystal Valley. She hates True Runes. These are the main points that I'm creating this story around. A lot of it is just guesswork on my part. If you find anything in this story that conflicts with actual canon, please tell me._

_Just two more things to clear up: I'm assuming that Sanady is the same country as Sanadia/Sanadier, which has been mentioned in other Suiko canon. The name I made up for Queen's family is Lebanon. I honestly don't know why. I just liked the way it sounded, and that trumps logic every time._

_Oh yeah. The reason this chapter moves so quickly is because it covers three months._

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_Disclaimer: _Suikoden _is owned by Konami. Rating is for language, violence, and non-explicit sexual themes. Some of the content may be disturbing and/or triggering._

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**The Light on the Waves**

Part One: Star of Wisdom

XXX

Chapter One

XXX

"Help me mop the blood."

Rags pressed into the cold pools, the cloying scent so heavy, the faint wind couldn't shift it. Moving to the afterbirth, scraping it off the rough blanket. Corisca lay flat, skin bare and giving off heat from the intense strain. Her white shoulders and cheeks glistened like melting snow. The baby still hadn't cried and was sleeping quietly. Theiline looked her over -a healthy baby, a little small, rumply as any other newborn. No hint of any personality yet. Night-black hair, eyes closed over the pure, bottomless blue that all her siblings had been born with and which they'd lost to other colors after a few weeks. Her skin was pink from blood. Theiline sighed regretfully, unsure when they'd have a chance to clean her with anything better than a towel-swiping. Theiline and Esdras continued going at the mess. They both stiffened (nearly jumped) when Saevitia stepped in, her long black jacket _shushing_ across the floor. "What star?" Theiline asked eagerly, hoping for a good one, for Corisca's sake. Chikei, the Avenging Star, or, infinitely better, Chiri: the Star of Justice.

"Tenson," Saevitia said. They both turned to Esdras.

The young sage eyed the infant. "The Broken Star."

Theiline wanted to cry and angrily slew the impulse. After all, great heroes had been born under Chii, the Peculiar Star. "Who is her guardian?"

Esdras glanced over at them, his distinctive green-blue eyes troubled. "There is no guardian," he admitted. "Tenson is bound in the water and manifested in the sunlight streaking waves with white."

"What good will that do her?" Saevitia asked flatly. "Or us?" Theiline could tell she was thinking of her own star, Tenhai, called the Vanquished but guarded by none other than the Fierce King of Devils.

Theiline's mind went to her own: Chiyu the Brave Star, guarded by the Sick Warrior. Her lips jerked into a wry smile. "With good luck-" She wiped up the last streaks of blood. "-she won't need a guardian."

"Wishful thinking-" Saevitia began.

"Tenson-" Corisca rasped.

They leaned over her. The sorceress' eyes were slowly drawn open. Their gold-jade color was bright with strain. "Tenson -is not a star that often rises to prominence...It is content to watch." She winced. "This is a Godsend to her."

"Corisca," Saevitia murmured.

"If she can live in obscurity, I will be thankful."

Saevitia knelt and, with uncustomary gentleness, reclothed her older sister. She glanced gray-eyed at Theiline. "Does the baby need more milk?"

"She'll let us know." Theiline picked the baby up, checked her wrappings. "She looks like you, Saevitia. Maybe her mother's chin, someday. Gavril's hair. Gavril's lips."

"If she has Gavril's tongue, there'll be no keeping her in obscurity," Esdras commented dryly, his Water Rune glimmering as he cast its healing glow over the mother. She was weak but doing well.

"You name her, Saeva," Corisca murmured.

Saevitia glanced dubiously at the baby. "How do you want her to live?"

"Calmly. Quietly. Passively," Corisca whispered, being pulled into slumber. "Like gentle waves."

"Then I shall give her a sweet name, as you always wanted, Cora. No sharp rasps for her." Saevitia eyed the infant a second time, her face uncertain as she tried to think up a gentle name. "Koraly," she said eventually.

"Koraly," Theiline repeated experimentally. After a moment's consideration, she added the family surname. "Koraly Lebanon."

XXX

Gavril Lebanon was awake before he opened his eyes. The mind-musting scent of old wood was all around him, interlaced with the rank scent of sweat, the rotten scent of vomit and the heady scent of blood. Closer at hand, the cold smell of iron. He opened his eyes. He was still on that table, tilted thirty degrees to the floor, held in place by the four iron bands around his ankles and wrists. The fifth, bridging his windpipe, made it impossible for him to turn his head or breathe deeply. Small, flickering mites seemed to dance over his eyes as he stared up at the black ceiling and awoke to another day in his own torture chamber.

"Good morning, Gavril," came a voice near his head.

"Good morning, Leon," Gavril wheezed._ I can't do this._

"You're slowing down, I see."

"You aren't experienced enough to know as much. You can test your theories, but that's all they'll be for years, Leon darling."

"Perhaps. But I have enough family records to ground my principles-"

"Is that why Geil Rugner's locked you in this dungeon here, as far from the Scarlet Moon Empire as he can get you?"

"I think breakfast will be unnecessary this morning."

_Damn._

Leon Silverberg strode into view and the two men sized each other up, as they did at every meeting. The young strategist-turned-interrogator-by-Imperial-decree assessed his prisoner. Gavril Lebanon, the erstwhile Count of Alcasara, could hardly be recognized as the man who had dropped anchor on the Harmonian conquest, pulling down -occasionally halting- their efforts for the last five years. He'd had to go into hiding a year back, which, Leon's training made him believe, had driven him to desperation. The persecuted do not generally suffer patience. Gavril had come riding down the mountainside the month previous, right into the waiting fire of the Harmonian troops. He'd finally justified Leon's entire journey to Sanady (As if the Emperor had needed justification to get rid of him). Gavril's hale lines had grown sunken with sickness, war and torture, his skin dry and cracking, his eyes red. His long black hair, the black hair of a Sanadian aristocrat that never grayed, was a matted mess.

Gavril blinked until he could look steadily up at his enemy. Leon seemed far too young to undo him; he wasn't even through his twenties. The chiseled face with its untidy shock of brown hair stared imperturbably down at him. Despite his youth, Leon's eyes were already hard; they sparkled as sharply as if they'd been faceted by a knife.

"Don't think I'll give away any secrets," Gavril said.

"I pity your children."

Gavril closed his eyes.

XXX

_My Dear Family_,

_This letter is the culmination of my regrets. There is no more realistic hope. Corisca, I beg you to call off the Furies, for they can now only do harm. I command you. There is no peace to be made with Harmonia unless we can bring ourselves to believe that their tyranny is peace. Please do not grieve me with any news of further assaults on the Harmonians. Let the truly desperate relinquish their lives, and keep yourself safe. I would go alone to Grania Latkje. _

_The Harmonians have been generous enough to send this letter, though they have read it and will attempt to track its course. I pray that it is only in your hands if they have been confounded. Do not abuse their generosity by coming for me. _

_Do not raise our children to carry my battle. Don't let them shed their blood on a land that may never again take seed._

_Do not be found._

_Gavril Lebanon_

Corisca's hands, holding the letter, dropped with a lifeless quickness to her lap. Saevitia watched her narrowly.

"This is genuine," Corisca said after a long time, voice husky. "He said -if something of this sort should ever happen- he would use the words 'culmination of regrets'..."

Saevitia pressed her lips together.

The two sisters sat alone in Corisca's room in the Mt. Rejiru hideaway. Saevitia, dressed all in black, with her long black hair and gray eyes, stood in severe contrast to her sister; though Saevitia was the more beautiful of the two, no one realized it. Corisca had the pale, clear skin of a noblewoman, green eyes and thick black hair, though her features were heavy and didn't often express the quick mind that directed them. Nor the prodigious talent. Corisca Niar, from the age of ten, had borne a Thunder Rune on her left hand, a Flowing Rune on her right, and a Pale Gate Rune on her brow.

Saevitia's hand traveled over the hilt of her only claim to excellence: a black sabre. "He wants to quiet the Furies?" Her voice was flat.

Corisca looked quickly up. "Saeva, please- if Gavril truly wants them silenced-"

"And that will silence the Harmonian injustices?" Saevitia reposted.

"He doesn't want us to be found! He wants us to _live!_"

Saevitia looked out the window at the cold spring sky. "For what?"

XXX

"Well now," Grania Latkje commented, as she set down her own copy of Gavril Lebanon's letter. She turned away from the writing desk in her suite -it had once been Lebanon's -did he even know she was only a few stories above his head?- and paced to the window, hands clasped behind her back. She was a very small women with twiggy bones and a sharply cute face, like a fox kit's. "What do you think of that?" she asked off-handedly.

Her retainers glanced at each other. They were new to her, this job and each other.

She looked over, light blue-green eyes wide. "Well?"

One man said, "War?"

"We're already at war," she replied patiently. She turned to him fully and nodded. "Alban."

Alban nodded.

She paced to the other end of the room, admiring the intricately woven tapestry of a dragon. "The Sanadian nobility," she said, "are known for their beauty and literature, I believe. Not so much for great prowess in warfare, magic, even single-combat. But they are much admired for their reticence." Her attention snapped around to the bodyguard nearest at hand. "You look sufficiently intelligent. What do you make of Lebanon's letter."

_Of course there are several hidden messages inside it,_ he thought. "I wouldn't know."

She shook her head, half admiring, half condescending. "The eyepatch doesn't make you look stupid. Nor does the blank expression and even blanker answer." She looked at the tapestry again. "I believe you requested a permanent dismissal."

He actually had. This job wasn't going anywhere he wanted to follow. "My lady."

"Granted. If you won't share your ideas, I don't want you. Safe journey. Be off."

Actually, he would have liked to hear more. But despite the casualness of her dismissal, he wasn't about to test her.

After the door had closed behind him, Grania swung around on her heels and faced her three remaining retainers. Her chin-length blonde hair framed a face of quiet alertness. She smiled. "I would very much like to meet this lady of Gavril's." Her tone grew thoughtful, and she moved automatically to her neat pile of notes on the desk. "His second wife, the first having been Lecia Teucuma who was... yes, murdered five years ago in the first Harmonian assaults. My, but he did remarry quickly. I wonder... but we needn't think more badly of people than is absolutely necessary. And Corisca... of House Niar. A mage of considerable talent and intelligence..." She swung around. "...who has been agitating for peace ever since the first Harmonian spears were seen.

"This is interesting. We're both born under Tenki, the Star of Wisdom. Guarded by the Great Intelligence." Her smile was gleeful and contemplative at once. "I wonder whom he'll favor?"

"My lady." A guard stepped up to the door.

"Yes?"

"Lord Silverberg wishes to know your plans concerning Count Lebanon's letter."

Grania nodded, face shading to seriousness. "This war has been stretched so long it's lost all its original shape. I believe it's time to curtail it entirely and as peacefully as circumstances allow."

Leon, impatient, was on the stairs just behind the guard. "What?" he asked, shoving into the room.

Grania wanted to rap his knuckles. "Leon, stop playacting the all-feared strategist and listen to reason. This war is wasting all the beautiful resources it's being fought over. We need to convince the Sanadians of the change of crowns, and we need to do this through civility. I have no use for the clumsiness of weapons."

Leon's eyes narrowed to little black arrowheads. Grania went on. "I wish to negotiate with Corisca Niar. We hold every advantage, and if I can win her over, it will be all the easier to convince the other factions to relent."

"And what shall be my role in the proceedings, _my lady_?"

Grania picked up a clean sheaf of paper to draft her letter onto. "I suggest you stay in your dungeon."

XXX

The clouds shot sheets of sleet-needles down onto the earth as Saevitia dashed down the mountainside. When she'd begun running, the sky had been bare, and she'd been able to time her progress by the sun, but now- but now she might not know how much time had passed until night came. And if night came and she was still running, she might as well be shot down by Harmonian scouts.

She broke out of the black pine wood, plunged down a rocky incline and staggered to a stop at the side of the road. She panted for a moment, drenched hot by sweat and cold by sleet, and she heard the sound of hoofbeats through the downpour. She jerked upright.

It was a black rider._ A Fury?_ "Wait!" she croaked. "Halt!"

The rider reined to a halt, rain coursing down his long black cloak and down his black horse's flanks. If he was a Fury, Saevitia had never heard him described before. Though his hair was jet black, he was taller than most Sanadians. His skin was darkened by rough weather where a Sanadian's would have burned to pink. His features were severe to the point of gauntness, yet his build was solid and muscular. Though his shoulder-length black hair was plastered to his face and neck, it didn't quite hide the fact that he wore an eyepatch on the right side of his face.

_I could be in quite a bit of trouble. Oh, look, he has a sword. Oh, that could snap mine like a twig._ "Are you a friend of Sanady?" she gasped.

"No."

_Damn!_ "What time is it?"

"About an hour before sunset."

Saevitia's eyes widened painfully. Danger from trusting this stranger? Danger of his finding their hideout?

Danger of not getting to their hideout before sunset?

Saevitia planted herself in front of the black horse. It drew up and blew wetly into her face. She ignored it. She even ignored the horse's heavy hooves stamping significantly close to her feet. "Please -are you a friend of truth -of justice?"

The one-eyed rider reined his horse to the left, to move around her. Saevitia knew she had to look mad. She grabbed the horse's bridle. The horse's forelegs kicked up. The rider reached down and shoved her hard away. She landed backwards onto the road. It took her a moment to realize he'd been thrusting her away from the horse's hooves.

His mount was again calm. "Do you need money?" he asked.

Saevitia loathed pity, but she spoke anyway. "I need a ride-" She forced herself to speak over her caution. "-to Mt. Rejiru."

"You are a Fury."

_And here we've been deluding ourselves no one connected us to Rejiru._ "I am. Please."

The rider watched her a long moment, considering. _Well. Harmonia never needs to have everything so easy. I've heard one Fury can make the difference._ "Get on."

Legs shaking with either strain or relief, Saevitia climbed up behind him. It wasn't easy; the horse was about eighteen hands high, and the stranger had a good amount of gear strapped on board. The horse sidled and champed with no little amount of asperity. "Shut up, Hexmark," the stranger said quietly. Hexmark stilled. Once settled, Saevitia elected not to hold onto the rider but to the back of the saddle. After checking to see that she was secure, the man legged Hexmark into his massive, rattling gallop and onward through the barrage of rain.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

XXX

They didn't make small talk. Saevitia gripped the back of the saddle, which was excellent for her posture and balance but strained her arms badly, particularly as the rain made the leather slick. Her companion leaned forward for speed and solicitously ignored her. His heavy sword rubbed against her calf in rhythm to Hexmark's gait. Saevitia only spoke to direct them.

The sun was almost gone as Hexmark hauled himself up a hillside in a series of short hops, and they were hailed by the first sentries. "Hurry!" Saevitia shouted. Hexmark's ears went flat against his neck as he plunged forward.

They slid to a muddy, squelching halt in front of the Rejiru headquarters. "Make yourself at home!" Saevitia managed as she flung herself off the horse and dashed inside the large wooden building. The rider watched her vanish through the door, then glanced around. The soggy sentries eyed him warily.

The rider assessed the sky. Hexmark snorted, saying as clearly as he could, "Go on if you want. I'll think about you as I rest up here." Grimacing, the rider dismounted, felt Hexmark's chest to ascertain that, yes, he was far too hot to go on, and lead them up to one of the sentries. "Where can we put ourselves?"

"That a stallion?"

Hexmark bared his teeth. His rider ignored it. "No."

"Good. Stable's around back. Inn's down that hill."

"Thanks."

The stable was redolent with the quiet peace that only animals, warm and well-fed, their worlds entirely complete, can bring. The stranger walked his horse out, rubbed him down in a borrowed stall and gave him some hay and water. He took care to wipe the white, seven-pointed star on Hexmark's left flank clean of mud. He left the saddle and bridle but slung the rest of the equipment over his shoulder as he headed for the inn.

The inn was redolent with the heady glee that only humans, tired and half-drunk, their worlds entirely chaotic, can bring. The stranger took a room, found he didn't like the muted noise through the walls, and went back downstairs for a drink.

"Whaddiluhave?"

"Do you have anything stronger than sangria?"

"How about some nice Raspberry-Cinnamon Rum?"

_Sanadians._ "Sure."

The pretty maid came back with two tankards, handed one to him, and sat down at the table across from him. "I have to get off my feet." A fiddler, a bongo player, and some madman with a tin whistle started playing at the other end of the inn.

"So," the girl said after a swig, dark eyes snapping cheerily, "you're new. Where from?"

"Around." Evasion: never a lie.

"And whatsyir name?"

"I'm not in the mood to play."

The girl slammed her tankard down on the table. "That's the _problem_ with you men! The moment a girl sits down with you and tries to strike up a friendly conversation, you start thinking sex _sex _SEX! Can't complete strangers make conversation just to pass the damn time?" She took another drink while glaring challengingly over the rim of her rum.

After a long moment he said, "You're just bored then?"

She jerked her head at the rest of the bar. "Same doofs and doinks every night. Only time we get new people is when they're a messenger and we're all likely to die within the next twenty-four hours. If you have news, tell me."

The stranger shook his head. "Sorry. I don't know anything new. I'm actually on my way out of Sanady."

"Oh." She drooped a bit, chin resting in palm. "Down the river?"

He nodded.

"Will you at least tell me your name?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I have to put the bill to someone. Fine. I shall call you Mr. Perkins."

"Fine," Mr. Perkins agreed, taking another sip.

XXX

"Thank heaven you came in time," Corisca whispered. She slumped weakly against her sister's shoulder. "To think I almost went to that meeting with that Harmonian witch-"

"It seemed so genuine." Theiline shook her head and cuddled baby Koraly close. "Grania Latkje has always been known as a pacifist, even if she is Harmonian."

"Harmonian elite," Esdras commented from the writing desk. His handsome features were bleak with thought. "Harmonia survives on politics. They know how to create reputations and auras."

"And there is no denying that those soldiers are lying in wait to kill you the moment you cross into Alcasara," Saevitia reminded her sister. "And I've heard reports that you're being hunted this very moment."

Esdras laughed harshly. "That's Grania Latkje's idea of pacifism The faster you're killed, the faster our faction won't need to fight for you."

"They'll do anything to get you-" Theiline started, but the Countess of Alcasara interrupted. "What of Gavril?"

Saevitia compressed her lips and shook her head. "No change, as far as I can tell."

"He's being kept alive for barter," Esdras said flatly.

Corisca pressed her hands to her mouth. "If I move against them, he'll be-"

"Cora-"

"_No_, Saevitia, I will not deploy the Furies."

Saevitia hissed. "Then what? We can't wait them out indefinitely."

"What if...?" Corisca looked out into the rain. She broke off her thought and stated a simple fact. "Harmonia wants me gone."

"Dead," Saevitia clarified.

"Or contained," Esdras put in. "In any case, they want the Lebanon family neutralized."

Corisca sighed, thinking of Gavril's two children by his first marriage, Gavriel and Lecelyn. King Conrad of Sanady had sent them to the Harmonians as war hostages in return for two minor Harmonian lords. According to her spies, the Harmonian lords had escaped, but the Harmonians immediately assumed (how conveniently) they had been slain in reprisal to Gavril's capture. Gavriel and Lecelyn, all of eleven and eight, had been executed three days ago. Did Gavril know? Their three year old daughter Corinnia was in hiding; if all their plans miscarried, she might never know her famous legacy. Corisca looked at the peacefully sleeping Koraly; Theiline would take her away eventually. Corisca had employed all of her discipline not to bond with her youngest child, but she could only do so much.

The Lebanon family was being pulled apart, like limbs off a- Corisca shook her head at the morbid image. _Keep yourself hidden,_ Gavril had told her. The Harmonian soldiers were lying in wait barely six miles from Rejiru. Her parameter of safety was tightening as swiftly as a knot.

"I need to get out of Sanady."

"Cora-"

"You can say I've died. With me gone, the Harmonian eyes will realize they have more important people to watch. There's the Casiona faction in the west and the duke of-"

"Cora, if you leave, the Furies will have nothing to fight for!" Saevitia came close to shrieking.

"Exactly." Corisca met her sister's angry gaze. "My husband is right. It would be murder and waste to continue-"

"Cora!"

"No." She shook her head firmly. "I've felt this for several months. We have no chance of winning, and even if we did somehow manage to drive the Harmonians out, our royal family is dead, and the True Rune is stolen; we'd incur a civil war just by choosing our new monarch. As it is, though the Harmonian rule is unjust, it is re-stabilizing our country and-"

"If we use the Harmonian control to our advantage," Esdras broke in, "we can grow strong again under them. We can make them train us to destroy them."

Corisca fell silent. That struck her as vainglory, but then... Fate made room for surprises. She steeled herself to look Saevitia in the face. "We cannot lie to the people and fight as though we had any chance for success."

"We give them the opportunity to die an honorable death," Saevitia countered. "Not dying of starvation -or maltreatment."

"I've decided. I decided this a long time ago." She resisted it, but her heart made her look at the baby. "I meant to do this last year. But that was when Gavril was still free, and..." She stroked the baby's head. "I didn't know about you yet."

Saevitia's eyes were hard, emotion condensing their silvery quality into granite. "So the only Lebanons left in Sanady will be who? The Count, dying, and your daughter, whom you think will never be told her heritage?"

Corisca shook her head. "I'm not taking Koraly."

"_Another_ Lebanon to die in obscurity?"

"I hope so."

"But-"

"As soon as they hear of Lady Corisca's disappearance, " Esdras broke in, "the Harmonians will be searching for a mother and child. They can't expect that she'd leave her last child, particularly when it looks as though-" he hesitated, looking apologetic, "-as though she won't be seeing Lord Gavril again."

"Won't they?" Saevitia demanded.

"The Lebanon name is one of the highest in Sanady," Theiline added. "They wouldn't think that Corisca wants to dismantle the family entirely." She pressed the baby close, heart breaking for Corisca yet -she couldn't deny it to herself- selfishly happy she wouldn't have to part from the infant.

Corisca saw the gesture, and her face crumpled in a sudden wince. Then it was smoothed over again as she stood. "I think I can do a great deal of good work outside of Sanady." She strode over to the window. "If I can make it out alive."

XXX

Mr. Perkins wasn't sleeping; he couldn't, not with any ease at least, and when he did, it rarely brought the peace he desired. But he lay in the bed, a heavy quilt pulled over his shoulders against the wetly chill Sanadian night. He lay with his blind side pressed to the pillow, his one eye watching the rain streak down the window, occasional flashes of lightning making it glitter. The soldiers who shared his room were mostly asleep, except for the bloke in the corner who also couldn't sleep and was singing sadly to himself: "Oh, they swooped down, they swooped and plunged/ The hawkmen carried my Nelly away, and my Nelly was gone."

The air in the room _shushed_ softly as the door opened. Mr. Perkins tensed, slipped one hand to his sword hilt, and shifted his body so that he could jump up quickly if the need arose. The barmaid from earlier stepped in. Mr. Perkins frowned and made no pretense of being asleep as she tip-toed over to his bed.

"Lady Saevitia wants you."

Mr. Perkins sat up. "And who is she?"

"The warrior you brought up."

"Tell her I don't want to join her resistance."

"She didn't say what for. I think... I think she wants you to meet the Countess."

This, to Mr. Perkins' thinking, was very bad. Rebels don't introduce guests to leaders when they mean to let them go. Maybe, he hoped, it was only payment, though he didn't need that. He rose and, while the barmaid danced from one to the other foot impatiently, strapped on his leather surcoat, his sword and picked up the rest of his equipment.

XXX

Corisca, Saevitia, Esdras and Theiline all whirled around as the door opened. They saw Susa the barmaid scoot in followed by a large, forbidding one-eyed man none of them liked the looks of. Corisca immediately told herself to ignore this latter fact and stepped forward. "Mr. Perkins?"

He gave her his attention, which served for affirmation.

"I imagine you know who I am."

"Corisca Niar."

"Yes. I-" She glanced at the others. "There isn't time for diplomacy. I understand you're leaving Sanady down the river. I need to leave with you."

"I have no reason to bring a woman with me."

Esdras lunged forward. "Listen, wretch, she isn't some common strumpet-"

Corisca gestured for silence. "No. What you mean is that the Harmonians would suspect you if you brought me along?"

"Correct."

She tapped her chin in thought. "How long have you been here?"

Mr. Perkins disregarded the question. "I haven't agreed to help you."

"We'll pay."

The soldier shook his head. "Payment isn't the issue. I don't believe in your cause, and my own plans do not accommodate a stay in some Harmonian prison."

Corisca's face went blank. They all waited for her to speak. She folded her hands and took a deep breath. "Then I have nothing with which to convince you. I have nothing to give you. But understand that you have the power to give me every hope."

Mr. Perkins turned his face away and closed his eye. "I'm sorry."

The baby in Theiline's arms hiccuped.

"We're sorrier," Saevitia commented coldly, if unfairly.

Koraly started to cry.

_Ignore. The. Baby,_ Mr. Perkins told himself as Corisca jerked towards Koraly, and Theiline said, "She's just fussing. Don't worry, my lady."

Corisca nodded vaguely. After all, Theiline knew the baby better than she. She closed her eyes, sadness and frustration reaching the high-water mark in her. Mr. Perkins opened his own eye just in time to see it.

Esdras saw it too, and, as little as he liked the stranger, he said, "Do you want this woman to die?"

"That would be the Harmonians," Mr. Perkins replied levelly, aware that he was setting himself up.

"Do you want the Harmonians to get to her?" Esdras pressed.

"It isn't my concern."

"It's _become_ your concern by the very virtue of you being here!"

Mr. Perkins worked to keep his growing irritation out of his voice. He decided it was better not to speak at all.

"Please," Corisca said so quietly he barely heard her.

Mr. Perkins sighed. "I am not a good candidate for subterfuge. I can't act, to begin with."

That didn't matter. They had him. Corisca grabbed his gloved hand and kissed it (and while he wasn't insensible to her gratitude, it annoyed him to no possible end) before wheeling around to confer with Saevitia and Esdras. "Run and get us some clothes, Thei. Go get the beard!"

"Here," Theiline said, dropping the baby in Mr. Perkins' arms (she never would have done that if she hadn't been so overwhelmingly excited; for the rest of her life, she could never look back on it without abusing herself) and dashed off.

Mr. Perkins was one of those men who just expected he'd drop the baby, contrary to past experience or not. He looked uncertainly down at Koraly. She looked uncertainly up. His one black-gray eye met her large, liquid brown ones. There are times in history when two immortal souls meet, and realization descends with all the swiftness and incisiveness of a guillotine; they see that despite all differences of sex and upbringing, despite all superficial contrasts, they are bone of bone and blood of blood, and, out of all souls that are, were and ever will be, they are crafted to match each other as two halves of a clasp are crafted to match, and in that instant, totally free of their own wishes, they form a bond that will outlast their bodies and experience a yearning that will only be staved when they are united once again.

But this wasn't one of those times. Koraly screamed and started thrashing around with all the vigor of a healthy three-month old baby girl. Mr. Perkins thrust the baby out at arm's length and glanced anxiously at the mother. Corisca ran over and gathered her baby up. She'd rarely held her daughter, and Koraly continued to cry, but Corisca cuddled the baby close under her chin. She went back to the small meeting, swaying gently back and forth. She kept talking and planning all throughout, and no one commented on the tears that ran silently down her face.

XXX

Gerunt and Bletch were busy hauling up one of the last few bales onto the deck of the _Nixie_ when they heard Hexmark's distinctive bugle-neigh. They glanced at each other, sighed, and, without looking over his shoulder, Gerunt called, "Get that animal settled, Geddoe! We're casting off soon!"

The gangplank rattled under Hexmark's hooves as he strode up. Gerrunt and Bletch squinted up against the sun. "Didn't think you'd return," Gerrunt commented to the one-eyed rider. "The bodyguard life don't suit you?"

Geddoe looked down at him. "The countryside doesn't suit me."

Gerrunt whistled. "Never heard you so outspoken about sumpin'. You really took a dislike to it, eh?"

"You could-" Geddoe started, but his words were entirely cut off by a loud and protracted "EEEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRRRRGHHHHH!" coming from the wharf. Hexmark wheeled. Gerrunt and Bletch dropped their bale and only peripherally noticed it tumble back down the gangplank.

Two people were running full tilt towards the _Nixie_. In front was a man wearing a rough homespun tunic and a voluminous black beard; his sandaled feet flapped as he ran. The other person was a girl in a big dress and an apron, being hauled along by one wrist. She had her face turned to her shoulder and was sobbing loudly.

"Damn," Gerrunt heard behind him. Looking up, he was amazed to see Geddoe watching the couple with something close to rage in his eye.

The couple trundled up the gangplank, breathing heavily. When they were about three feet away from Gerrunt and Bletch, the man hoved to a halt, the woman tumbled against him. She gave one quick glance up at Geddoe and burst into even louder tears.

"Leave now," Geddoe commanded. "You have no business here."

"Ah have no business heah?" the bearded man repeated. His green-blue eyes were popping out of his sockets. "Ah have no business heah? Ah have abou as much business heah as YOU have commin heah and walkin out on my DOTTIR! Nao you just git off that animal and we a'gonna git a preacher and you a'gonna do RIGHT by my girl, ya heah? You ain't gonna-"

"I'm not going to marry your daughter," Geddoe said flatly.

"Oh oh oh!" the daughter sobbed, her green-amber eyes wide. "Oh poppa, poppa! He said he would! If he hadn't, I wouldn't've never-"

"You scowndrul!" Poppa shouted. A bit of the venom had trickled out of his voice, and he took a moment to clear his throat. Maybe his hand strayed unconsciously up to his beard, maybe it didn't. "You've RUINED my dottir! I aint gonna be able to hitch her up to no one else! Youse marryin' my girl or youse takin' her wi' you, that's all theah is to THAT!"

Geddoe sighed. "I guess I have no choice..."

"Oh, poppa, poppa!"

"Wail, alrigh' then, TAKE her, you blackguard!" And Poppa thrust his girl up the gangplank. Gerrunt and Bletch caught her, not ungently, and they all watched Poppa tromp down the gangplank and back into town, muttering to himself all the way. After Poppa rounded the first corner by a smithy, he wrenched off his beard and mopped his forehead with it.

Meanwhile Gerrunt and Bletch looked at Geddoe. He shook his head disgustedly. "I'm putting Hexmark away."

As Geddoe rode off, Gerrunt and Bletch helped the girl to her feet. "Don't worry, missy," Gerrunt said kindly. "Don't worry, this happens all the time. We got five or six other girls just like you that came in this mornin'. You can all kinda keep each other company, or sumpin'. We'll be droppin' you all off on the way through Harmonia, you can go, make a new life for yerself. Aw, honey, don't cry. No one there needs to know what happened to you here. Aw, don't fret, we won't be lettin' any of those guys near you if you don't want them. Hush now, it's going to all be all right."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Because a reader asked, I'll explain that I'm intending to take this story until Queen is thirty-three years old. It will definitely be encompassing the storyline of Suikoden 3. Thanks to everyone who's read so far._

_And look at this: suddenly thirteen years have passed. My, the time does fly._

Part Two: The Black Lotus

XXX

Chapter 3

XXX

Grania Latkje frowned sadly at herself in the mirror. _Well, another day, another gray hair. Heigh-ho._ She plucked it out, dropped it in her trash bin. Even with it entirely severed from her, she still felt glum. She remembered a time years ago, back in Harmonia, her little cousin Nash calling for "Granny" because he couldn't quite handle "Grania". What had been so cute years ago still struck her as cute...and pitiful. "Well," she said aloud. "You're only forty one, dear girl. It's high time you left the winsome, elusive, scintillating stage in your life and went to something better. Now that you're sufficiently mature, you can drink heavily, frighten people into submission just by the wrinkles around your mouth and be another Elenor Silverberg."

She sighed again and strode briskly out of her room, down the fabulously tiled stairway to the Great Room where her wards were studying. Twelve beautiful, black-haired Sanadian heads looked up at her entry, twelve Sanadian children between the ages of seven and eighteen stood as she walked to her desk, and twelve heirs of the greatest Sanadian houses knelt back on their work cushions as she sat. She flicked the roster towards her. "Shall I bother with roll call today?" Several of the younger ones looked up eagerly. She smiled fondly at them. "All right, let's see whose name I mispronounce today." She read off each of their names, all children she had sought and collected during the last thirteen years. Many of them had been guarded by their parents' highly trained retainers, others had been left in hiding. All their guardians had been slain. King Asaurus I, Hikusaak's puppet in Sanady, had wanted to execute the children; the King's Strategist had wanted to take the them himself; but Grania's Harmonian name had carried the most weight. Both she and Harmonia could make good use of these last veins of the old blood. She'd recovered about twenty in all. A few had escaped. Two years ago, four of the more melodramatic teenagers had taken poison. Two had made good on their potential: Ragan Palgrave had gone to serve in Harmonia's liaisons with the Island Federations. Corinnia Lebanon had secured an excellent match in the Scarlet Moon Empire.

Grania leaned forward in her desk. "Now, as you all know, I want you to be on your most charming behavior today for our guests. Their connection to Harmonia is much stronger than yours, remember that. As for the older pupils..." She smiled. "I want you to be especially nice. Neither Prince Luca nor Princess Jillia is yet betrothed, and Agares Blight does owe my family a favor." The older students glanced at each other, slyness and nerves mixed in their faces.

The Highland heirs had arrived in Sanady's capital, Cwenburra, early that summer, there ostensibly for their pleasure and edification. Grania thought otherwise; even so far away, she'd heard of Prince Luca Blight's prodigious ambition. Though the boy was likely decades away from ruling, his father wanted to give him a good view of a Harmonian colony. Harmonia still rankled from losing Highland in the first place, and was really only content to leave her in peace when she kept her head low. Jillia, however, was an illegitimate child, the product of a rape. Harmonian and Scarlet Moon lords were not straining at their leashes to marry her, not with her father's less-than-certain lineage. Grania could think of a few of her students that could make Jillia a profitable match, even if the only profit came in their surnames.

She'd had to wait several weeks though. The Blights were being entertained in Cwenburra, and none of her charges were allowed remotely near the capital. Her manor was on a small island, Meymuna, in the middle of the great river that flowed south through Sanady. And even if it was a Harmonian Latkje ruling Meymuna, it took the prince and princess quite some time to get around to visiting her.

The moment the Blights stepped inside her manor, Grania sized them up, reminding herself how beneficial it would be to match either with one of her own Sanadians. It wouldn't just bind Highland closer again to Harmonia, it would give her direct access to the court of L'Renouille.

Prince Luca strode in first. Though he was young, he already had the build of a warrior. He had thick black hair, but any good looks were marred by his heavy jaw and his constantly shifting eyes; the pupils were hard and small, and Grania couldn't see the rings of irises. That he kept one hand confidently on his sword hilt and surveyed the entrance hall before taking notice of its occupants told Grania two things: one, he was headstrong and accustomed to power, and two, he had no diplomatic clue.

His thirteen-year old half-sister stepped in behind. Princess Jillia was small and slight with wispy black hair, pleasing features that were angled studiously at the floor, and demurely clasped hands. She would do whatever it was her duty to do.

Grania's calculations were finished by the time Prince Luca stepped in front of her. She smiled charmingly. "Welcome to Meymu-"

"Enough of that, old hag," Prince Luca interrupted. "I've spent the last few days in your wretched inns and on your choppy straits. Where's my room?"

Grania made herself smile. "Of course, Prince Luca. Ah..." She looked to one side. There was Selima, the erstwhile heir of an eastern duchy, waiting just as they'd discussed. "Selima, please convey his highness to his suite." _And be as sweet as you possibly can,_ she mentally added. Selima was gentle, passive, demure, and had not a single thought in her pretty head. Grania didn't see how someone like Luca could resist her.

As Prince Luca was conveyed off, Grania decided it wouldn't be suitable for a boy to take charge of Jillia. Grania clapped her hands in a summons. "Koraly. Hanako." Two of her thirteen-year old students glided up. "Attend to Princess Jillia." Grania left the prince's more politically-savvy retinue to herself.

Koraly and Hanako glanced sidelong at Jillia, then at each other, then Hanako said, "This way, your highness."

"Thank you," Jillia said quietly.

The three girls made their way down a green gallery lined by windows and long gauzy gold curtains. Hanako looked older than thirteen, tall and curvy with rich, gleaming black hair coiled at the nape of her neck. Koraly was taller but weedy, and her large feet led her to believe that she was destined to attain greater heights. She emphatically did not have the magnolia-smooth, magnolia-soft, magnolia-clear skin Sanadian ladies were famed for, but her lips and nose were both finely cut. She had silky black hair, and her brown eyes were intelligent.

Hanako opened a silverwood door carved all over with lissome, sweep-winged swans. "Your highness." She and Koraly bowed Jillia in.

Jillia met the soft dove-gray carpet, the light rose walls and the graceful white and opal furniture with no little relief. "Thank you," she sighed, sinking onto a low silk stool. And after releasing another long, drawn out breath, she bent forward and buried her face in her velvet lap.

Koraly and Hanako leapt at the drama. "Are you all right?" Koraly asked eagerly, kneeling at the princess's side. A water jug appeared in Hanako's hands, and she bent in a graceful attitude towards her lady. "Princess Jillia?"

Jillia sat up, cheeks flushed. "It's all right. I'm just glad to sit down somewhere where-" She suddenly realized she was gabbling, and finished hesitantly. "...where I won't have to get up again in five minutes."

The other two stared at her, nodding sympathetically.

"Of course," Koraly murmured.

"Yes," Hanako breathed.

"Oh, do stop," Jillia said after a moment.

"Do you want us to go all diplomatic on you instead?" Koraly asked.

"We can," Hanako assured her. "We just thought it would be better to start off on the obsequious note."

Jillia gave a shy frown. "You don't have to do either."

"No," Hanako agreed. "We've got thousands. We'll be brisk and invigorating if you prefer."

"Or catty and conspiratorial," Koraly added. "Or friendly and confidential. We'll even," she concluded, "faint on cue."

Jillia slowly looked from one to another. "You're just two actors."

"Diplomats," Koraly corrected.

"Would you like to hear us sing?" Hanako wanted to know.

"If you two are trying to win me over," Jillia said quietly, "you're doing a very poor job of it."

Koraly and Hanako grimaced. "Well!" the latter commented, setting the water jug back in its floral china dish.

"Now you're going to say you'd like us to just be ourselves," Koraly guessed.

"Well, yes."

"Princess Jillia," Koraly said, looking her in the eye. "You have to realize what a tall order that is. Just think about it. We hardly know you."

"You hardly know us," Hanako elaborated.

"And, as Grania says, we're all three at that difficult age when we don't even know _ourselves_."

"Mm," they all agreed.

"Well," Jillia said after a moment, "can you please not act around me? Just do whatever you want, I don't want a pair of smiling geishas."

Koraly nodded and stood. Then she took the water jug and upended it over Jillia's head. "There," Koraly commented as Jillia jumped up, water sheeting down her fine skirts, "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you. It drives me mad, the way you walk along, looking at your mincing feet."

"Well!" Jillia expostulated, eyes blazing.

"Hey," Hanako realized. "She does have spunk."

Koraly crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. "She's not supposed to, from all accounts."

"Don't stand like that," Hanako told her. "It's so masculine." Koraly gave her a withering look.

"So- you dump water on me just because of the way I walk?" Jillia demanded, bringing matters back to where they should be.

Koraly gave her a long moment of silence, mainly because she wasn't sure herself. All she knew was that the longer she was with this moon-faced princess, the stronger the urge to drench her, or pull her hair, or poke her in the eye grew. At times like this, she always blamed her father. She'd never met him but, according to Grania, he'd been known to break people's fingers for less.

"Yeah," Koraly said lightly. "I guess so." _It's not like there's much more to you than your walk, you big-eyed, blank-faced, whiffling little-_

"Don't mind Koraly," Hanako told Jillia in a theatrical whisper. "She's under a lot of stress right now." Koraly snapped towards Hanako but kept her face icily expressionless.

"And we're all just a little wee bit jealous of you right now," Hanako went on, still in that same tone.

Jillia was genuinely surprised. "You are?"

"Don't answer her, Hanako," Koraly commented. "She's just digging for compliments."

"Hm," Hanako said consideringly. "Maybe you are. You do seem like the insecure type." She jerked her chin at Koraly. "Koraly wouldn't bait anyone who could really take her on."

"What?" Koraly demanded.

The animosity between the two girls -as well as the acid tide of anger she felt in herself- was cutting Jillia off from her thoughts and, much more importantly, her composure. "Will you two leave?"

They looked at her.

"Sure," Koraly said.

"All right," Hanako agreed placidly. They bowed and glided out of the room, closing the fine door behind them and leaving Jillia standing in her puddle.

XXX

Grania walked into Koraly's room that night, just as Koraly was crawling into bed. "I'm told you and Hanako got on famously with Princess Jillia."

"She didn't want us to be pleasant to her." Koraly rolled over to face the wall. "She wanted us to be ourselves."

"You _are_ the sort of person who dumps water on people's heads," Grania acknowledged. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Koraly's shoulder. "When you were little, I suppose dumping water and stomping toes did make you feel better. And when you were little, it was very cute. But now it simply has no place in your life."

Koraly, knowing precisely what Grania was referring to, said nothing and studied the candlelight on the wall.

"Koraly," Grania said after a long moment, "you know you have always been my favorite."

"Of course I do," Koraly muttered. "I also know you spend every waking moment making sure you don't treat me differently."

"It's not because I became your father's lover-"

Koraly closed her eyes. "Stop. Being. Disgusting. Grania."

"I'm not," Grania said firmly. "At least, a lie would be infinitely more disgusting, wouldn't it?"

"Now you're going to go on to say that you loved my father, but he wasn't a good man. He had ideals but lacked personal integrity, and all you wanted was to dispel the violence in him and make him useful towards peace because the Lebanon name is so influential, but you couldn't. My mother, whatever happened to her, was better than that, and he always felt guilty about her and it killed your joy together -as well it should have, Grania."

"I've told you all this before," Grania commented dryly before blowing out the lamp. She continued stroking Koraly's hair. After a reflective silence, she asked, "Have I told you that he begged me not to find you?"

Koraly rolled over onto her back. "Why?"

"Because of your mother. He had told his wife to hide you and your sister and... well, she was the wiser one. She saw the use Harmonia had made of your two half-siblings. And your father was afraid of you carrying a useless fight. He wanted -whether you were a boy or girl- you to grow up free of your heavy legacy."

"Then why did you look for me?"

"Your father died. And I was desperate for some part of him."

Anger bolted through Koraly. "Is that all I am?"

"No. I started looking for you in the thrall of passion, but by the time I found you, I was disgusted with that whole affair. I view it as a disgrace of the body, of the heart and of the mind. However much I loved your father, I wouldn't repeat it for worlds. But I won't deny how happy I am to see your father's sharp wit in you. Even his volatile temper. But I'm even more pleased to see your mother's traits."

"You have a high regard for your enemies."

"If you must make enemies, they should be worthy of your respect."

"You haven't yet told me why I'm your favorite."

"You remind me of-"

"Of my father."

"No."

"Of _you_?"

"No." Koraly could sense Grania's smile. "You remind me of qualities I always wanted to see in myself."

Koraly raised her eyebrows. "Such as?"

"Your ability to face life's seriousness. I've always been enraptured with the farce. If I looked at life as it really is..."

There was a long silence. Grania went on. "You haven't seen any of life's hardship. I don't know if it would frighten you. But I think you'd be able to accept it quickly and work through it. You have both the stubborness and the intelligence."

"Stubborness is good?"

"We call it _will_."

There was a longer silence. "I just dumped a jug of water on the princess of Highland."

"Well," Grania said briskly, "there are things about you which appall me as well. You'll be fasting tomorrow and contemplating the virtue of discretion."

Koraly groaned.

"I cannot stress the importance of tact enough." Grania rose. She felt annoyed with Koraly, not just for her breach of reason but for agitating old shames, so she didn't hesitate to relay her last piece of news. "I have heard from Captain Kolgrim."

Koraly thrashed upright in bed. Grania felt a flinch of remorse, but she went on. "He sent me a letter. He sent _you_ this." She held out a white shape in the darkness. Koraly took it, feeling something flesh-like but infinitely softer. It was cool and gave off a strong floral scent. Her fingers traced the shape of petals.

It was a lotus.

Koraly wanted to crush it. Or drop it. She held it and didn't move.

Grania yearned to say she was sorry. But her intellect did not. Nevertheless she reached out and touched Koraly's cheek. "Don't brood on it." She resisted the impulse to make a parting joke, turned, and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

XXX

Most of the students at Meymuna were delighted the Blights had come to visit; it meant no studying for two weeks. Lavish breakfasts in the mornings, riding, boating and hunting in the afternoons, and nighttime dinners on the broad dark lawn in front of the manor, hung over with paper lanterns and wind chimes. The older girls steeled themselves every morning to curry favor with Prince Luca, and some of older boys commented with approval on Jillia's gentleness and docility.

One evening they were having dinner on the green bank of the stream that angled through Meymuna, several of the girls dipping their fingers in the water with picturesque swirls. Grania had trained her pupils not only in political theory, literature and music, she'd also taught them to be pleasing, and even Prince Luca couldn't help noticing it.

Prince Luca was listening to Selima flatter him when he jumped up and swung around, his posture instantly shifting to that of a warrior. The whole party tensed, like a herd of deer at the first sound of danger. _Exactly like a herd of prey_, Grania thought to herself as she scanned the trees and bushes for danger.

"What are _those_?" Prince Luca demanded.

People turned their heads this way and that, searching for something out of the ordinary.

"_Answer_ me, you swine! What are those lights?"

Selima's tinkly giggle broke the silence. Grania winced; that had been a lethally bad move on Selima's part, and Luca's face showed it. Grania willed respect into her voice. "Those are fireflies, Prince Luca."

"_Fire_flies?" Luca repeated incredulously. "Are they going to explode?"

Selima and a few of the children laughed. Grania rose quickly to heal the wound. "They are flashing signals to each other, Prince Luca. Like flag signals on a war ship."

"Oh? And who are they about to attack?"

"I believe they are looking for mates."

Prince Luca threw back his head and laughed. "So my ass should light up when I see a curvy wench? Well then, I'm glad to know that." He whirled around. "Come, ladies! Which ones of you are lighting up?"

Resisting the impulse to part Luca's hair with one of the decorative columns arrayed by the stream, Grania called out to the younger children. "Why don't you catch some fireflies to show our guests?"

The children jumped up and trickled in and out of lantern light and shadow, after the darting sparks. "You _catch_ them?" Luca asked incredulously, then moved off to see how it was done.

Grania moved to sit next to Koraly and her best friend, an older girl named Portia. Koraly braced. Portia and Grania smirked at each other. "I was just thinking," Grania commented smoothly, as she took a thin wafer, a slice of white cheese, and a green grape from an elegant salver, "of how much Princess Jillia might benefit from your company, dear."

Koraly groaned. Portia stood. "There is no senseless moaning in diplomacy," she pronounced, "so we didn't hear that and are taking your silence for acquiescence." She held out her hand to help Grania to her feet.

Koraly glared at the lamplight sliding over the river. "I notice you're letting Hanako stay away and have fun."

"Hanako can be very entertaining," Grania replied, "but I want someone with substance to cultivate the princess."

"And _I_ don't want to cultivate anyone."

Grania cupped Koraly's chin in her fingers. "Use that fiery nature to ward Jillia's chill of loneliness. Don't sear her again."

"I thought my element was water."

"Well then," Portia supplied, "don't dump your element over her head again. Be as the gentle rain that waketh the parched earth into life-"

"Enough metaphors!" Koraly climbed to her feet.

"Consider this your summer exam," Grania told her, a gentle -but no less real- warning.

As Grania and Portia moved off arm in arm, Koraly assessed the situation. The dinner had broken into small circles, most of which were still gathered around the food. The fireflies were being hunted in the far field. Jillia was sitting demurely in a gazebo overlooking the river; Selima had likewise been directed to her side. Koraly compressed her lips, ran her smooth silk fan through her hands, and started towards them.

They glanced up as she stepped inside. Selima smiled vacantly; Jillia didn't hide the fact that her smile was forced. Remembering that Jillia didn't appreciate contrivance, Koraly sat across from her and was as direct as possible. "I shouldn't have dumped that water on you."

Jillia couldn't help cataloguing all the things Koraly _didn't_ say: _That you deserved it. That I'm not doing this of my own choice. That I'm not even sorry, even if it was a stupid thing to do_. Jillia was tempted to ask, "Would you do it again?" but she knew better. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond; Koraly hadn't asked for forgiveness. "You're right," she said lamely.

"Mm." Koraly looked vaguely up at the manor. _Consider this your summer exam._ "I realize it wasn't the best way to greet a visitor."

Jillia decided to wait in dignified silence until Koraly got around to actually apologizing. She really didn't see any personal or political use in trying to be friends with this girl.

"And you have every right to be angry with me."

Jillia knew this was as close as she'd get to contrition. "And I think I have every right to _stay_ angry with you," she replied primly.

Anger flashed across Koraly's face, but she brought her face, if not her anger, under swift control. Even if her jaw remained unnaturally tight. "I'm _trying_ to make peace with you," she said with an effort.

"But you _aren't_ sorry you did it."

"You're pretty greedy if you expect me to be!"

Jillia was twisting her fan into a corkscrew. "You're pretty stupid if you expect me to forgive you when you aren't even sorry!"

"I don't _want_ to make peace with you!" Koraly shouted back, mentally blaming her father for it. "You could _try_ to _pretend_ to be happy here!"

"What?" Jillia asked, incredulous.

"Girls, girls," Selima broke in melodiously. "Please. The night is so peaceful."

They stared at her.

"Lady Selima!" Prince Luca called through the gloaming.

"Over here!" Selima called back.

Prince Luca strode into the gazebo. "Dear Selima, I'd like to give you a little token of my affections."

Selima's face went rapt; "token" usually translated into a marriage proposal. But neither Jillia nor Koraly trusted it.

"Here sweetheart," Luca said, thrusting his arm out. Selima shrieked. Around his wrist were stuck the glowing ends of about ten fireflies, severed from the heads and wings. "Here," Luca said as Selima shrieked a second time. "Take it if you love me, Selima."

Koraly stood. She'd seen the firefly bracelet before on younger boys. It disgusted her, but not as much as the entire universe disgusted her at that moment. Feeling that she wasn't the only one of Grania's pupils that was failing her summer exam, she tramped out of the gazebo and off across the dewy fields.

XXX

"Why _did_ you dump the water on her head?" Portia asked quietly. It was later that night, and they were up in Portia's room as she made herself beautiful for the late night party her fiancé was bringing her to. He was a minor lord, one of the Sanadians Harmonia had put in power, and Portia had only met him several times. He was in his late sixties, but she had resolved to take this philosophically. Portia was a bit pretty with loose black curls and green eyes.

Koraly lay on her bed and watched her apply lip rouge. "I guess...I just expected someone who was so much luckier than me to be all the better for it. But she's just this pretty, nodding, smiling doll."

"It's what she's been trained to be," Portia put in.

"We've had that training too. Because our situation's so rotten we can't get out of it!" Koraly stopped tearing up the daffodils in the vase by Portia's bed. "We have to be sweet -and sly- to survive. But here she is, born a princess, born into power and privilege, born into wealth, and she's just this little cipher that doesn't do anything with all she's been given!"

"And if you'd been born into that position, you'd do better? Her position is hardly as secure as you make it to be. She _is_ illegitimate."

"Part of me knows that. And that part of me is just as angry that a pure-blooded arista like me has been brought to such a lower level. I just didn't want to bow and scrape to her to make her happy! If we don't bow and scrape and flatter people, we're going to starve! I feel like I have no value in myself, only in making other people feel valuable. It's like being a prostitute."

"That's exactly what it is." Portia fastened a red silk ribbon in her hair. "We survive on the good feelings of others."

Koraly slumped against Portia's pillows. _Meaning that if I don't learn some fast lessons, I'll lose all usefulness._

"There are some other problems of course." Portia turned to look at Koraly sympathetically, but her friend was still face-down in the pillows. "I know how hard it is. But it's in your power to make it harder or easier."

_I want out of this life,_ Koraly thought to herself._ I would do anything to get out._ She felt she was being very mature and objective, her assessment based on years of living this life. But it just proved how young and stupid she still was. And she didn't mean it.

XXX

At meals the entire manor -students, servants, Grania, the Blights and their entourage- all dined together on various tiers or in different areas. But during the stretches between meals, they gravitated into small groups. At first Koraly had stayed with her age group, but as more and more of her contemporaries coddled (started to_ like_) Princess Jillia, Koraly sought refuge with Portia's group. She was tolerated there if she kept her mouth shut though she adamantly refused to wait on the older students. The drawback was that this group centered around Prince Luca. His company was far less relaxing than Jillia's but infinitely more interesting.

One afternoon towards the end of the Blights' visit, Luca's group was lounging on the long patio in the rear of the manor, facing the forest. Prince Luca, reclining on the patio's top step, put down his whisky and lemonade (it was just as well Grania didn't know about it) and broke the silence. "What's behind the wood? I hear noise."

They, having always heard that noise, hadn't noticed it. They strained their ears. "That's the town," Portia said after a moment. She took a sip of ginger beer. "It's called Reppu."

Luca sat up like a dog that's about to hear a knock at the door. "There's a town on this Godforsaken floaty?"

"We aren't allowed to go there," Velvet, Selima's replacement, told him.

That went about as far as caveats ever did with Prince Luca. "Why not?"

"Well..." Velvet's blue eyes grew puzzled as she actually thought it through for once.

Portia, whose parents had both ranked highly in King Conrad's military, had an answer. "Grania tries to keep us as secluded as she possibly can. It's best that we don't go out into the real world where we could effect actual harm. It's for our safety." Koraly knew Portia well enough to recognize the bitter edge in her voice.

Luca Blight smiled scornfully at them. "And you're content to be the little pigeons perching in your cage and watching the other birds fly?"

_I didn't know he was capable of metaphor,_ Koraly thought around her rancor._ We aren't content, we're suffering under the terms that keep us alive. How else do you think Harmonia would've have let Grania raise us if she didn't keep us as useless as possible?_ Koraly knew very well she was basing "useful" on a very narrow definition.

Luca looked out towards the forest. In the silence, the rest of them became aware of its far-off noise, the sound of hawkers in the street, the creaking and rumbling of wagons.

"How about I spring your cages, little birds?" Luca asked.

Most of them immediately shook their heads. A few glanced furtive-eyed around. Koraly knew Portia would give Luca a disdainful look and stay right there.

Portia thought she knew that too. But her military blood had come to the surface; Luca had mocked her, and she wanted to defy him. On another level, she was considering her upcoming marriage, being bound to an elderly stranger, as a passive, submissive, politically harmless wife, and, within a few months, a pregnant one at that. She felt a forceful urge to use her freedom while she still had it.

"You won't be springing any cages, Prince Luca," she spoke up loftily, "for our locks have always been on the inside. I feel like letting myself out." She stood. "Would anyone like to come?"

Koraly stared at her. Then her emotions progressed much the same course as Portia's, and she stood. And several of the others, seeing that even the gangly, pimple-faced Lebanon girl was game, stood as well.

Luca sprang to his feet. "Excellent!" He turned to the others. "But no more! The rest of you cowards stay here and cover for us. And if Grania the Hag Latkje hears of this, I think I can find a few ways of paying the tattlers back." He clapped his sword sheath; Prince Luca's sword had been the first most of them could remember seeing, and that he wore it wherever he went only underscored its impact.

They went to Reppu.

For the past weeks, Koraly had been fulminating, desperate to get away from Meymuna where she could make an impact on the world. She hadn't ever really thought what it was she wanted to impact. Reppu showed her. And all it did was make her want to rush back to her room in Meymuna and bar the door.

She'd never seen wooden houses before. She'd never seen hovels made of mud and straw. She'd never seen filthy lumbering horses dragging wagons full of tar, or animal hides, or human refuse. She'd seen dirty faces on well-bred children, but she'd never seen the foul faces of those who never washed. She'd never seen calluses, badly-set bones, eye patches, homespun cloth, rags, thatching, streets of mud, meat hanging from awnings, loudly barking dogs, animal cadavers bloating in the sunlight. There were flies as large as raisins, bumping heedlessly against her. The villagers glanced slit-eyed at them, knowing they had to have come from the manor. They didn't talk to anyone. Grania's students stared in appalled fascination.

"Pfuh!" Luca commented. "This looks like every other Sanadian town I've seen. Except for the civilized ones near the capital." He laughed. "You people just can't run a country can you? In Highland, our prison camps look better."

"This country is run by Harmonia," Portia commented under her breath.

On the trek back to Meymuna, Koraly's mind ranged over her history lessons. Sanady had been attacked because it possessed a True Rune; the country had never posed any other threat to Harmonia. Sanady hadn't been an especially wealthy nation, but it had been solvent enough to promote the arts, something that came to its people much more readily than war. And while Harmonia's control had obviously brought more wealth to the upper class (Meymuna manor itself had been decrepit in King Conrad's time) apparently the munificence didn't extend to every class. Koraly had heard from Grania of Harmonia's rigid class structure. Unless she made a good marriage with some Harmonian supporter, being a citizen of conquered Sanady would make her a third-class citizen all of her life.

_A third-class citizen_. Koraly's eyes rose to the manor, which had just come into view. _I'm on the same level as those people in Reppu_. Instinct pulled her both ways, to a feeling a solidarity with the villagers, and a feeling of utter revulsion for herself.

Grania never heard of that trip, and the pigeons willingly flew back into their cages, content now to keep the latches locked.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Sorry about the long delay in posting this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing._

Chapter 5

XXX

Some degree of stress lifted from Koraly's life as soon as the Blights left (though Grania was in a foul temper for days; none of her students had won matches). But very shortly, there was a new source of discomfiture. Koraly's lessons began to spill over into her breaks; Grania took her out for long walks during which she was lectured; she started to take new lessons in finances and book-keeping; and more time than Koraly could have believed possible was spent on the making of a long red and silver dress. Even before the fabric was bought, Koraly started to hate that dress. She was forced to wear it every day as it was pinned into place, and her nerves had recoiled at its first touch against her skin.

It was the first cool day of autumn when Grania came into her room and said, "He's here."

Koraly, a brush stuck in her hair, glanced up. Her blood felt cool and her cheeks were burning hot.

Grania jerked the brush free, combed the fine hair smooth and said, "You look nice."

"I don't want to look nice," Koraly retorted, at the same time thinking,_ I'm UGLY._

"Dignity," Grania said, angling Koraly's chin up. "Remember that. Shoulders back. Down we go."

Down they went. Grania stopped at the door of a receiving chamber. "I want you to meet him alone."

"But-"

"Trust me. I know him. It's better this way." Before Koraly could really argue Grania had swept past and was down the hall.

Koraly was left alone in front of the door. After a few long moments, she put her hand on the wood, as if trying to sense the presence beyond.

_What am I doing? This is the worst part. Get it over with._

She stepped inside.

There was a mild fire in the grate. Sunlight angled through the windows, so bright and solid, it looked like a graceful decoration for the room. There was a long black table over a blue carpet. The man in front of the hearth turned at her entry.

She'd been expecting quite a lot of contradicting things. She didn't see any of them except for the fact that he was, indeed, old. Older at least. In his forties.

Kolgrim Renweld, Captain of the Garrison of Cwenburra, was very tall and very broad and had a very tall, very broad sword on his left hip. His father, Grania had told her, had been a first-class Harmonian citizen, but he was second-class and in good standing in Crystal Valley. He'd been sent to Sanady during the interegnum between the fall of Conrad II and the coronation of Asaurus and had served as a stabilizer in the capital. He was the highest ranking non-Sanadian in the kingdom, barring the first-class Harmonians themselves.

He had a stern, lined face; each line looked as if it had been cut with a sword. His dark brown hair, beard and mustache were clipped close, and he wore chainmail under his tunic.

Koraly just stood in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at him, unable to give him any indication of where to begin.

He started with her name. "Koraly Lebanon."

As if that had been a key that wound her up, she bowed. "Yes, sir." Then she got a hold of herself and straightened. Then she remembered what Grania had told her to say. "I thank you for your generous offer."

"I thank you for accepting."

The fire rasped and coughed.

Kolgrim decided to breach the gap. He strode a bit closer to her. "I understand you enjoy literature."

"Yes, sir."

"I've ordered you some books."

He was trying to be nice. Koraly tried to un-constrict her voice. "Thank you, sir."

"Kolgrim is all right."

"Thank you, Kolgrim." _I sound about eight years old._ "Um, won't you sit down?"

"Thank you."

They sat.

"How are things in Cwenburra?" Koraly was about to ask. Then she realized that she didn't know anything at all about Cwenburra aside from its history. And then she realized, as one of the last surviving Lebanons, it wasn't considered her business to know about the state of Cwenburra. "How's your job going?" sounded stupid.

Just then Grania swept inside and immediately scooped Kolgrim up in a conversation about military training. The three were served dinner, and Grania kept the conversation afloat throughout, sometimes speaking with Kolgrim, sometimes Koraly. Koraly and the Captain didn't speak again that evening.

XXX

The next morning Koraly went for a walk to clear her mind and compose herself for the day ahead. The grounds around the manor were full of strangers, Kolgrim's retinue as well as some friends who had wanted to see the mysterious academy and get a few glimpses of the exiles.

During her meandering, Koraly was suddenly stopped still by the strangest sounds she had ever heard. She was alone on a forested walkway, and the noise came from beyond the trees. A rich sound. And a bare sound. A hard clap followed by the sinister whisper of-

It was like thunder. It was like something fragile falling and being broken again and again and again.

It was like lightning being formed as a sound, bright, hard and sharp.

Her mind didn't remember the sound, but her ears did; she knew where she'd heard it before, though she didn't actually recall it. All she had heard was Grania's story.

_You were so well hidden, it made me all the more determined to find you. I couldn't bear to fail. I was given a hundred false leads, leads I never should've followed. The saddest thing about acting on doubtful information is that the innocent always pay._

_But I knew the real thing when I finally heard it. I had a friend from the Howling Voice Guild, and he found you. I remember him leading me up to the house where you were. It was a steel gray twilight, no blue or purple in the clouds. A cold mist filtered through the forest. The magician who protected you kept diverting us with false paths, sometimes manmade, sometimes magic. When we broke through them, we found him standing alone in the forest. That was a battle._

_We pressed on to the house. Your mother's soldiers and your own nurse were waiting for us. There was a devastating swordfight._

The clamor broke through Koraly's thoughts. She shuddered, half at the sound, half at that eleven-year-old memory her heart remembered but her mind had forgotten. Telling herself that she was silly and idiotic, she walked forward.

She found Kolgrim and one of his men-at-arms sparring with swords, a civilized echo of the battle that had brought her to Grania. All the same, it unnerved her to see two men she knew as friends hack away at each other with sharp steel shafts. After those first unnerving moments, she sat down on a bench and watched Kolgrim and his friend with some interest. After a few moments, they noticed her and broke away. Koraly gestured for them to continue. Kolgrim was a master with his sword and moved with both grace and precision, but Koraly couldn't relax or think with the resounding steel clashes and left after a few minutes.

XXX

Koraly and the moon had been watching each other through the night. Never had Koraly found its remoteness so appealing, its virgin barreness. When the moon set, Koraly lay sprawled in bed, sometimes on her back, sometimes on her side. She got up several times and paced, which seemed to exhaust her until she lay down in bed again. For awhile all she could do was watch. She could hardly think.

When, just before dawn, Grania tapped on her door, Koraly shot upright as suddenly as a spring-loaded knife. Grania opened the door on a pale, wide-eyed girl in a dark room on a rumpled bed.

"Courage."

Koraly caught her breath in her throat.

Grania beckoned the maids inside, and they set to work. Koraly hadn't wanted any of the other girls with her, not since Portia had left Meymuna. Grania watched her ward carefully, hoping Koraly would get angry and tempermental soon; if Koraly was angry, she could cope. Grania ignored the increasing guilt she felt as she handed Koraly into the bath and began working soap through the girl's fine black hair.

Finally, as they were lacing Koraly into her red and silver dress, the girl shouted, "I can do it!" Grania watched in satisfaction as Koraly jerked her dress into place. She stood stoically still as Grania painted her face white, her lips red, and delineated the black outline of a lotus on her right cheek. One of the maids tucked the combs that held the long, sheer red veil into place behind Koraly's head. Grania stepped back to study the effect.

"Don't tell me I look lovely," Koraly warned, heart pounding like a battering ram.

Grania stretched out a hand. "Then let's go."

Fear broke through Koraly's resolution. "So soon?"

Grania lifted her chin. "Yes. Now." She dropped Koraly's hand and stared hard into her face. "I'm not going to lead you in like some three-year-old toddler. You will walk in on your own as befits the task ahead of you."

"Task?" Koraly repeated, anger coloring her voice. 'This isn't a_ task_."

"You're right. Today you will be made into something entirely new, a change with no return." Before Grania herself was even sure she was done with her speech, Koraly stepped around her and out the door, her veil and train whispering behind her. Grania watched her, pride a pleasant and painful sensation in her chest. She hated losing her favorites, regardless of what she gained in the process. She squared her shoulders and followed.

XXX

Koraly put her hand into Kolgrim's and looked anxiously up at him. Kolgrim glanced down, wondering how to reassure her. He was bracing for tears and nervousness, but as she began reciting the Six Vows of Fidelity, the Four Vows of Life, the Two Vows of Partnership and the Vow of Permanence, Kolgrim's tenseness gave way to admiration. She spoke calmly, clearly, dispassionately; it appealed to his military nature, knowing she could act despite fear. He felt marginally better as he repeated the vows.

XXX

Calm? Clear? Dispassionate? Koraly Lebanon Renweld? No, absolutely not. It was thirteen hours later and Koraly Lebanon Renweld was in her new bedroom, bent over a tray of candies and stuffing her face. Stuffing her face but not swallowing. When she heard a tentative knock on the door, she turned, spit it all on the floor, and said quickly, "Um. I really don't feel well. I just brought up a lot of food all over the floor and uh..."

On the other side of the door, Kolgrim Renweld nodded his head knowingly -and with relief. He, frankly, had no desire to bed a thirteen year old. "Koraly," he said. "That's fine. But I-" He decided honesty was best. "I know what you're up to."

Fear shot through Koraly.

"And that's fine. I think that right now... things should be made as easy as they possibly can be between us. Nothing has to happen any time soon."

Koraly felt her knees go week. She slumped into a high backed chair. "Thank you so much." _You're a wonderful man._

"Good night, Koraly."

"Good night, Kolgrim."

Kolgrim turned away from the door and had to chuckle a little to himself. _Only one day married and already I'm sleeping on the couch._

XXX

The next morning after breakfast, Kolgrim found Koraly sitting on the bench in the garden again, where she had watched the sword fight. He sat down next to her.

Koraly covertly eyed her new husband. He was still large and formidable, but slightly less so without his ceremonial chainmail. He favored dark colors and today wore a hunter green tunic over grey pants. He nodded to the guitar across her lap. "You play?"

"Grania's taught us all many instruments," Koraly informed him. "Guitar's my favorite." She sighed. "Before we leave for Cwenburra, I have to turn in my final music assignment to her."

"What's that?"

Self-conscious, Koraly turned one of the ivory keys of her instrument. "We all had to write a song."

Glad to find an opening (and hoping he wasn't embarrassing her), Kolgrim asked, "What's yours?"

"'Ashes'."

"May I hear it?"

"All right." Feeling a little foolish to be singing a song to a high-ranking military general, Koraly shifted the instrument on her lap and began playing.

_I'll twist a ring of roses_

_Of petal, blood and thorn,_

_Of saw-edged leaves unfolding,_

_Of love lost and forlorn._

_I'll pick a field of posies,_

_The field we won't forget._

_Every posy in my pocket_

_Counts each tear a debt._

_I'll burn the blooms to ashes,_

_As ashes you and I_

_Forsake this love and passion_

_And choose to let it die._

_It will burn us both to ashes._

_We'll fall as only ashes._

Kolgrim paused a long moment. "Very pretty."

Koraly squirmed, acutely embarrassed. _Why did I have to write a song about parting and death?_ She began to babble. "Very Sanadian, you mean. We don't consider a song to be over until at least one heart's been broken."

"You will write music at our house in Cwenburra?"

Koraly was flattered, in spite of herself. She almost said, "If it would please you." She suddenly vowed never, ever to put it that way.

"I'd be happy to."

Kolgrim met her eyes earnestly. "You're willing to like me then?"

Koraly frowned slightly. "I should warn you. I've never had a father figure."

Kolgrim chuckled flatly. "This shall prove difficult."

"I promise I'll never call you Uncle Kolgrim."

"Thank you." As Koraly returned to her instrument, playing random chords, Kolgrim leaned back to look at her. She was perceptive; he _did_ look on her more as a ward or some distant relation than his new bride. But... that could change. Kolgrim studied the lines of her profile, the curve of her neck as she bent over the guitar. She would be very beautiful someday. She could be very intelligent and strong and gracious someday. He looked out over the autumn garden, the rich reds and oranges crumbling to winter brown. He could wait for that _someday_, though he knew he'd have to wait a long time. He was old, had always been old, forced into difficult circumstances from an early age. So had she, of course, but she had been both protected and provided for and had the luxury to still be immature. He hoped the intervening years would pass quickly and give her wisdom and him some recollection of his youth.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: First of all, I hope you readers don't mind that this is such a lengthy chapter. I tried to cut it in two, but it didn't work that well, so just pretend you're getting two chapters for the price of one._

_Also, one reviewer wanted to know if there will be any Geddoe-Queen interaction. I never explicitly give away pairings, but Geddoe will certainly be returning to the story. Don't worry about that._

_Oh, and one more thing: I'm going to refer to one of the characters as a Bishop Primate. This just means that he is a very high-ranking bishop. It doesn't mean he's a monkey. Sure, a monkey would be kind of cool, but he's not._

_And for some reason, fanfiction's document manager won't let me close all my parentheses. Its fault, not mine. _

Part Three: Flowers of Renweld

XXX

Chapter Six

XXX

"You will write often," Grania commanded.

Koraly nodded and refused to cry. She stood still as Grania embraced her, then kissed her softly on the cheek. Koraly's knees jerked to catch her as tears swarmed in her eyes. She had never been kissed before, not by Kolgrim or Grania or anyone she could remember. In a sad and anxious haze she stepped into the carriage Kolgrim had brought to Meymuna for her, and the door was closed. She looked out the window at all of her fellow exiles, the other students. If they were lucky, they would leave the island too. But suddenly all she wanted was to stay.

The carriage rattled into motion, drawn by a pair of dark chestnut geldings that stepped eagerly in their traces. Koraly waved, as leave-takers always do, until she couldn't see Meymuna any longer. She then turned to her two smiling, blank-faced maids.

And knew exactly how Jillia Blight must have felt.

Koraly turned back to the window, watched the woodland clatter past._ I hope one of them dumps her water canteen on me; I left my book in the trunk._

XXX

Getting onto the ferry, watching the river alternately sparkle and thrash -that had been interesting. And for the first day and a half in the carriage, watching the countryside change subtly -that had been intriguing. But Kolgrim took care never to travel by towns; they never encountered passers-by or bandits on these less-traveled roads, and by the third morning, Koraly was ready to howl with boredom as she sat with arms crossed on the window rail, chin resting on arms, eyes staring blankly at the passing woodland, and spine aching from the constant bobbing of the carriage.

She sat up. Little pains raced down her vertebrae. Her maids, Celette and Meredis, obviously didn't want to talk, as each was making a point not to look at her. Koraly leaned out the window and called, a little bashfully, "Kolgrim?"

The driver looked back at her. "Yes, Aira?"

Koraly was a little rattled by the formal title. "I want to speak to Kol -my husb- uh-" _That there man over there on the horse. _

But the driver had already leaned forward and hollered. "Your lordship! Airin Kolgrim!"

Kolgrim glanced over his shoulder, then detached himself from the rest of the outriders. He reigned his gray mare back until he was abreast of Koraly. "What is it...dear?"

Koraly grimaced at the endearment, then remembered they were supposed to be on their honeymoon. "How much longer?"

"Three more days."

"Will we be stopping by any more towns?"

"A few."

"Can I see them?"

He shook his head. "If we were passing Selanu or Vilna Vey, you could. But you'll have to wait until we reach Cwenburra."

Koraly nodded and leaned back against her pillows as Kolgrim legged his mare forward again. Selanu and Vilna Vey were close enough to the capital to be acceptable. They might even be so civilized that Harmonian was the predominant language._ I've come from Meymuna all the way to Cwenburra, but I've seen nothing in between._ _Can anything be worse than Reppu?_ she wondered, watching the forest course by. She closed her eyes and tried to pass the long boring hours in sleep.

XXX

_Mars IS 458_

_Dear Grania, _

_I want to thank you ever so much for neglecting to tell me that high-born couples don't necessarily sleep in the same bedroom. So what were you doing? Testing my reactions under extreme nervous stress? Is everything I do some sort of exam? Are you_ (six explosive paragraphs omitted)

_My room is pretty nice, and Kolgrim is making an effort to make me comfortable. But he still doesn't know me very well. When I arrived here at Renweld Manor, I saw that my bookcase was filled with everything from _The Tale of the Water Margin_ to _The Art of Wa_r to _Courtabelle's Dark-Eyed Love_r. I've found some very good reading in between. Why didn't you teach us about the Island Federation, Grania? I read up on their history and learned about a pirate queen during the early three-hundreds, Lady Kika. Very bad role-model but so interesting. Giving me all sorts of wild and romantic notions._

_I play my guitar every night after dinner, sometimes the piano (food: too heavy on the cream sauces; nobody eats light salads). Kolgrim prefers I sing Falenan Arias. Sore vocal cords._

_I have yet to be taken into the Cwenburra society. I know this is my whole purpose in being married. I know this is why you trained me. And I know it's a major part of why you want to keep in contact. So I cannot look forward to it._

XXX

_Aprilis IS 458_

_Dear Grania,_

_They call me "the Rose of Renweld", all those wretched court ladies and the even wretcheder old court men. I attended a ball last night -it's about two in the morning, we only just returned and I am FAR too angry to sleep- and I was sat at a different table from Kolgrim and I was next to the Earl of Pelroya and all he did the ENTIRE dinner was remind me what a cute little armful I must be and how would I like being a child with child? Anyway, I think the whole rose thing is a slur against my complexion. Oh yes, I'm popping up rosebuds everywhere. I often feel that the garden of Renweld can only exude the saddest of blooms._

_Anyway. Your warnings about the Airin and Aira of Caldeur were timely; they do want to weed out the old blood of Sanady. But you were wrong about Adelsa Cattrail. She's aiming to marry the King's godson, not the Bishop Primate. She dropped several slurs against you this evening which I think I parried fairly well. I drew attention to the mole that's developing between the arches of her upper lip, and I don't think she's puckering up to anyone tonight. Kolgrim, however, wasn't so pleased with my sass. Unlike you, he wants me to be as much as a cipher as possible. The impulses to protect myself and to serve you pull me both ways._

XXX

_Aprilis IS 458_

_Dear Koraly,_

_I sometimes think roses are the saddest of flowers; so beautiful that they are always plucked and killed at their blooming. But I know that you interposed "saddest" for, hm, "pathetic". And well you should make a pathetic rose, my dear. You're more a touch-me-not._

_No. I see you more as the night-blooming cirreus, pale as a paper moon and opening only under darkness, when no one's there to see it._

_To business: (_six pages of information, warnings and instructions from Grania to Koraly

XXX

_Maia IS 458_

_Dear Grania,_

_Cirreus smell horrid. I know because Lady Lalagia had several in her hair at the Geofferin's Banquet three nights ago, and I was seated behind her. And by your definition, I more resemble the nettles that flourish when the desirable blooms have faded. Besides, wasn't I always supposed to be the Tenson Star, the light rippling over the waves? Still more pathetic. I have no star-guardian, only a quality, and a_ passive_ quality at that. I am surely doomed to achieve nothing by my existence. (_Followed by eight pages of information gleaned from the social rounds.

XXX

_Maia IS 458_

_Dear Koraly,_

_Your thoughts on the Tenson Star raise an interesting point. I advise you to be on guard for the one who stirs the waves your light will strike. If Stellar Destiny is to be believed, you will likely feel the effects of some great change. (_Followed by etc, etc

XXX

_Juno IS 458_

_Dear Grania,_

_But not effect them myself. I am doomed to passivity. (_Followed by..

XXX

_Juno IS 458_

_Dear Koraly,_

_Passion -in lieu of action- could be a better word than passivity. I can't be a seer and read your future. But what I hope, Nettle, is that you flourish. (_Etc

XXX

One year later, Koraly watched the light ripple over the waves her fingertips were making, then she threw her weight backwards, dove in a half-circle under the surface and came up splashing. She paddled a bit, then lay on her back again, staring at the broad clouds.

From a ways off, she could hear Meredis and Celette tittering, almost drowned out by the chorale of the summer birds in the trees. Her pool was surrounded on three sides by carefully spaced trees and irises of all colors -purple, white, burgundy, gold and even black. On the fourth side, she could look out at the ivy-choked stone wall that bounded Renweld Manor. Far away, past the parks and the quiet river that meandered through Cwenburra, she could hear the city's bustle. From the high orans tower, a Harmonian priest sang the midmorning prayer, his tenor voice shivering through the summer air.

Koraly paddled into an upright position again. She'd have to go in soon; her short waterlogged bathing dress felt twice too heavy. Just as she was wondering whether or not she should attempt a few laps first, she heard Kolgrim call her name.

She doggie-paddled over to where he stood on the pool's stone steps. "Hm?"

"I've been summoned to meet with the Bishop Primate unexpectedly," the captain informed her. Koraly noted that he was wearing the long black tunic of a penitent. Anyone who appeared before the Bishop Primate was to consider himself a penitent. "I just wanted to ask you to greet Waldron's steward when he arrives."

"All right. Waldron himself will be here around...?"

"Mid afternoon. I hope to have returned by then."

"Don't make me face him alone."

Kolgrim gave her a paternal smile. Nobody wanted to be alone with Waldron, not even his physician. "I don't intend to."

Koraly nodded. "I should be getting out now. The Lady Basilie invited me to court with her and Gemlora. I'll need some time to dry off."

"Koraly." Kolgrim gave her a serious look. "Tread lightly or not at all around the King. He's in a bit of a mood lately."

Fear pierced Koraly. "Has he singled me out for any reason?"

"No! No," Kolgrim hastened to reassure her. "I'm just warning you not to give him any cause to notice you."

"Why is he in a mood?"

"I can't say I know anything for certain, but I imagine it has to do with the Toran Republic."

"What's their invasion of Southwindow got to do with anything?"

"They want old land back. This has got Highland nervous in regards to Jowston. Even closer to us are the recent stirrings of yet another Fire Bringer, and, well, the Empire doesn't like any disturbances it itself doesn't cause. Happenings in Toran can affect Sanady more readily than you'd think."

_But Grania might already know something_. Koraly nodded her understanding. "I'll be discreet."

Kolgrim leaned down and gave her hair a short stroke by way of farewell. He still had never kissed her, and Koraly felt much more comfortable around him for it. _He's a good egg_, Koraly thought to herself as she watched him go._ I don't see how I'm ever going to love him, but the man's an egg._

She climbed up out the pool and waited resignedly as Celette and Meredis came rushing over with towels.

XXX

A letter was waiting for her when she got to her room. She let Meredis fouf her with towels while she broke the seal and read:

_Juno IS 459_

_Koraly,_

_No. I order you to recommence reading The Romance of the Three Kingdoms. I assure you, once you hack through the boring passages, you will find nothing more edifying. I refuse to consider your assertion that the entire book is boring passages._

_Speaking of edification, I was much impressed by your report of last month's royal conclave. I wish you could have seen the proceedings firsthand; your husband's ideas sound quite controversial and enlightened. I'd be very interested to see what would change in Sanady if his theories were actualized. You notice that I write in the subjunctive. It is not likely to occur. Still, speculation serves to pass the time._

_Anyway, from the past to the present and future. You are well into Cwenburra's social season; I want your ears and eyes wide open, your mouth firmly shut. With Toran's oozing north, and all of the little problems that crop up in any government, particularly King Asaurus', you should have no trouble keeping my brain busy._

_On an end note. Have you thought about when you are going to have children, my dear? I am being callous, but you must consider: fourteen isn't too young to begin when you contemplate the dangers of pregnancy, childbirth, and infant disease. I must also bring to attention another point: the ancient royal blood of Sanadier was hunted in the last generation; this generation will likely only be different in that Asaurus will have to excuse assassinations as accidental tragedies. When you do have children, I advise you to send them to me, far from the danger of the capital. I can raise you worthy heirs to a difficult lineage._

_Sigh. My dear Koraly. I think of your father's reckless intellect and your mother's discernment, and I wish you could take a more active role in the forming of your country (not in some Sanadian uprising, darling Lebanon, but Asaurus needs direction). But, as always, I must beg you to remain discreet. And informed._

_Your affectionate Grania._

Koraly shook her head as she lay the letter back down. Children? No. Definitely not for two years, at the very earliest. Maybe four. She wasn't ready. _I've never slept with my husband._ _I don't even know if I_ like_ kids_, she added moodily, recalling her underclassmen at Meymuna. She'd seen a lot of them, but she'd never been required to babysit. _I'd make a terrible mother right now. "Be QUIET or I'll dump this tub of water over your screaming head!" And isn't childbirth supposed to be ...painful?_

Celette had laid out a dress across the bed, a tide of shimmering red silk with black and white embroidery around the square neck, long sash, and up the sides of the elbow-length sleeves. Koraly was laced into her slip, her silk stockings, her chemise, and her three petticoats. After she'd stepped into her gown, Meredis brought out a pair of soft black riding boots and wound their thick ribbons up Koraly's shins. She powdered her face, rimmed her eyes with thin lines of kohl, and added a touch of lip rouge as the maids swept her long black hair back in a silver filigree net. A black capelet that fell only to her elbows afforded the modesty a fine lady required when riding abroad, a wide-brimmed black hat saved her skin from the evil sunlight, and long, black deerskin riding gloves safeguarded the fineness of her hands.

But it didn't end there. As Koraly stood in front of the mirror, Meredis reminded her that she'd somehow forgotten her jewelry while Celette packed a pair of black satin slippers and an elegant silver-lace fan Koraly would need once they arrived at the palace. As well as a change of gown in case there was an impromptu gala. They remembered Koraly's onyx drop earrings halfway down the stairs.

Koraly stepped down the front steps of Renweld Manor just in time to see the elongated Lady Basilie and her pink daughter Gemlora trot demurely up on horseback (carriages had gone out of fashion, due to Queen Zinnia having accidentally locked herself into one during the month previous). Koraly mounted her skewbald mare, arranged her skirts over the left of the sidesaddle, and the three ladies struck smoothly out for the palace, their maids following closely behind.

Gemlora started going on and on, as she always did, about Tir McDohl, whom she'd seen at a distance of three hundred feet from a third story window during the Battle of Gregminster. Lady Basilie had been visiting her sister, the wife of a minor Scarlet Moon Empire lord, when the revolution had reached its climax, and both mother and daughter had been much... affected.

(Basilie had been so much affected that she attempted to poison then-Vice President Lepant at a victory banquet. She dropped a healthy dose of hydrochloric and nitric acid into Lepant's wine goblet one night while he was waltzing. But Lepant's wife was concerned with their son's growing penchant for drink and beseeched Lepant to set a temperate example. Lepant reluctantly did, resigning himself to grape juice. Perhaps the fact that his wine had dissolved the wine glass had something to do with it.)

Basilie, Gemlora, and their minor lord relations had been returned to Sanady with no real damage to anyone but Gemlora. But her damage ran deep. She had seen McDohl.

"He wore this bright green bandanna," Gemlora was saying. "I don't know if it was for the heat. Maybe he had a head cold. I don't know. But you could just _see_ this messy fringe of soft black hair escaping from under the bandanna and framing his face-"

_He's hiding a bald spot,_ Koraly decided, smoothing her mare's mane. _I'd bet you anything._

"His face..." Gemlora gave a reverent little sigh. "Oh, the dichotomy of it. The big-eyed youth and boyish vitality, offset by the harrowing anguish of killing his father, and conquering his own homeland..."

"Don't you think the True Rune might contribute to it in some capacity?" Basilie asked dryly.

Both girls looked at her in some surprise. "Why, what's wrong with a True Rune?" Gemlora wondered, just as Koraly said, "It's an honor to be a vessel of God."

Basilie sniffed. It made Koraly pay attention. Basilie was, in general, loathsome to behold, but she had been educated at Crystal Valley in Harmonia. She addressed Koraly, "You're quoting Martin of Graska. I recognize the quote because it is used both widely and erroneously. The true quote reads,_ To be a vessel of God is an honor. To be a vessel of God is to be destroyed for the sake of your god_. The second 'god' refers to a True Rune, naturally. Unless you wish to form all your arguments on the basis of single sources, I suggest you read Flare en Kuldes' _Oceania_. Or even a brief skimming of General Le Buque's' _Fields of Flames _should prove enlightening. Those are words from those who suffered much beside the honor of God's vessels." She sniffed again and faced forward.

"Tir McDohl must be honorable!" Gemlora asserted, breathing a bit hard.

_Because he's handsome?_ was Koraly's snide aside. "He _did_ topple one of our strongest allies. The Toran Republic isn't exactly trying to win Harmonia's good graces."

Gemlora offered her a cold glance. "You weren't in Scarlet Moon during the revolution. People constantly told us how they were_ suffering_ under Barbarossa."

_Particularly since Barbarossa was losing_._ But then_, she reminded herself, trying to be impartial,_ revolutions don't begin on whims. I'll ask Grania in my next letter what the conditions really were. And if she can find me a copy of _Fields of Flames

The Sapphire Palace stood head and shoulders over the rest of Cwenburra, with two long, sweeping wings to the North and South, capped by eight high minarets, with its multi-paneled dome rising from the center. Galleries and balconies looped the dome like chokers. Pennants bearing Sanady's standard struggled in the wind, the crowned serpent flashing red against its white field.

Seeing the palace's perfect symmetry, Koraly squared her own shoulders and legged her horse to step smartly inside.

XXX

"Are you the one they call Rosebud?"

Koraly turned around, her glass of sangria sparkling in her hand.

"I love roses."

As of yet, there was no sign of any impromptu galas, which Koraly was glad of. Kolgrim wouldn't thank her if she kept Waldron's steward waiting. However, no amount of courtiers could ever come into contact without fabricating some excuse to drink wine and eat bon bons, and today it was a long, leisurely stroll through the royal lilac gardens.

Unimpressed, with both lilacs and her new companion, Koraly looked at him squarely. "You, sir, are far too drunk for so early in the morning."

"Aha! Aha! Aha!" he laughed. He swept an elegant bow, the sunlight burnishing his golden curls. "You, medame, are far too pert for a lady conversing with Sir Vincent de Boule."

_Vincent de Boule,_ Koraly recalled from one of Grania's previous letters. _De Boule family of the Scarlet Moon Empire. Learned and traveled. Participated in the Liberation War. Utterly useless however. Avoid unless you require a headache as well as a persistent scent of rose petals._

"You love roses, but I," Koraly said, with a very sweet smile, "prefer lilacs. Please, allow me room to admire them."

"Ah, but of course." And he took her arm. Koraly resisted the impulse to bat him away with her fan. "Lilacs too have their allure." He spoke in an abstracted, wispy voice, almost as though he were the parody of a fop and didn't realize it. "My dear Rosebud, I am much edified to find another lover of the beautiful in this profusion of beauty. But then, it is no mere chance. Over the past years, I've found I have a gift for perspicacity, for piercing outward appearances and discerning the true light of a bosom companion. Ah me, I believe I see a honeybee."

_However_, Koraly suddenly recalled from Grania's letter, _he does have a penchant for helping himself to unfortunates and declaring them his lifelong friends. Believe me, my sources show me it's a well-documented habit of his. I believe he considers Tir McDohl one of his soulmates._

"Have you met Lady Gemlora?" Koraly asked. "She too is a lover of the beautiful. She also has a deep interest in the Toran Liberation War."

Vincent de Boule beamed. "Ah, so you know of my accomplishments. Indeed, that was a harrowing time. Truly, I thought I would not survive the scouring of Moravia Fortress, the soldiers clamoring at the walls, my guards brandishing their swords at me through the grille of my prison cell. All my potential, all the yet-unseen wonders of this world, seemed as naught. I desired nothing so much but to turn my face to the wall and die. But I unsheathed my rapier and -OH!"

"Oh dear! That bird- Your hat...I don't think that will wash out."

"Er... oh, oh, yes. Well, ahm, what sort of ...of bird was it?"

"A red dove. I understand they're attracted to bright colors."

"I believe I understand it as well."

"Perhaps you should...?"

Glumly: "Perhaps I should." With a less than half-hearted flourish, Vincent de Boule shuffled off.

_Good riddance, you fruity, beaky-nosed fop._ Koraly went back to assessing the lilacs and worrying over the time.

XXX

"No, Aira Renweld. There's no leaving until I get a word with you."

_Damn,_ Koraly swore for the first time, even mentally. She didn't have the space to contemplate or regret crossing this threshold because she had to work polite serenity into her eyes. She'd been edging away from the strolling party, intent on finding Basilie to offer her regrets for having to leave so precipitously, etc, etc, but she'd been caught. And by King Asaurus himself. Reassuring herself with Kolgrim's assertion that the king hadn't before singled her out for some reason, she swung slowly around to face him.

She saw his smile. Too smart to meet his eyes, she glanced up at him through her lashes.

_He was born Asa Cooper,_ Grania's voice said in her ears. _His family made barrels until Harmonia came to Sanady. It's always been the Empire's way; after a takeover, Harmonia settles the slaves over their masters. The king would love to see all the old noble blood mixed in the mud, if not glistening on the edge of his sword._

"You were sneaking away from my delightful repast?" he queried, his tone warm and bemused, as if they were sharing some inside joke.

Koraly tried not to show how carefully she answered him, maintaining the humor but not equaling his indulgent manner. "No. You caught me in the act of making a strolling party of myself."_ Ugh. I'm simpering like a courtier._ She spread her fan so it covered part of her cheek, a gesture of shyness.

He took her hand and guided her back into the garden, to a low bench separate from the rest of the group. "You will let me join your party, I hope?"

"You caught me in the act; it is your prerogative." _What's going on? This has something to do with Waldron visiting us. Is Waldron plotting something?_ Asaurus did not join her on the bench; he propped one foot on it beside her and, crossing his arms on his thigh, leaned down towards her. Koraly took in his handsome, fine-lined face and long black hair in a moment. What she tried not to focus on was the pimple forming under his left nostril.

Their conversation continued. As far as Koraly could tell, nothing of significance was exchanged, just the usual slew of well-worded and worthless pleasantries. What she did see was that Asaurus was being very obvious about singling her out for company. Why? As she rode back towards Renweld manor, Koraly's mind struggled to work through that question. She knew very well that Asaurus lacked any real political savvy, so it had to be for the broadest reasons possible.

_No,_ she told herself firmly. _I'm not beautiful enough for it to be that_._ And even if I was, I wouldn't -I hope I wouldn't- well, it's not that anyway. Am I some sort of threat? Would the people back me if I initiated some revolution? Unlikely. I'm only related to the throne tangentially, though,_ she smiled a bit_, some of my ancestors have been the greatest and worst rulers in all of Sanady's history. A threat of my own accord? No. Kolgrim? He commands the garrison, but how easily could he turn them against Asaurus if he wanted to? Besides, why would Asaurus make pretty-talk with me if he meant to strip us of power? None of the spies I know of have mentioned anything..._

_Waldron? His movements seem regular, but I'm not terribly well-informed in his area. But then, no one is._

_I'd better hurry if I don't want his steward to be angry._

XXX

Seven hours later, the steward and Waldron himself had been conveyed to comfortable apartments, the latter having passed the time in Koraly's careful and polite company, and now all were readying themselves for dinner.

Koraly looked at herself in the mirror. _That's what I'll tell Grania: I can't possibly have children until I acquire hips and a bus_t. She sighed and straightened her narrow shimmering gray skirt. Her shirt was of fine white linen, riddled with seed pearls and cut to show her shoulders and collarbones, her arms left bare. Her hair was pulled into an intricately braided knot, diamond-dangling hairpins holding it in place. She looped a fine silver chain three times around her throat, then pulled on her pale blue dinner gloves. Just as she'd declared herself ready, she heard Kolgrim's voice in the passage outside, then his footsteps enter the chambers adjacent to her own. She trotted over to the door and knocked. "Kolgrim?"

"Enter." She saw that he too had just gotten in to his dinner things, a long blue tunic edged with red-gold over cream-colored trousers.

"What did the Bishop Primate want?"

Kolgrim was working on his cravat. "Those soldiers of mine that were slurring the Circle Palace a week back."

"I remember."

"He wanted their heads."

Koraly pressed her lips together.

"They'll be punished. But not by him."

Koraly swung her fan anxiously by its cord around her wrist. "Kolgrim, the king took me aside at court today."

He pivoted like a swordsman about to meet an attack. "For what?"

"Nothing that I could tell! He just courtier-spoke me for awhile and let me go. You don't-" She frowned. "There's no reason he'd want to delay me returning home, right?"

Kolgrim's face was dark. "I doubt it was that. But I doubt still more that Asaurus just wanted to get to know you better. Are you sure he wasn't prying?"

Koraly sighed with some asperity. "Kolgrim, I was trained by Grania Latkje. I can tell when someone's trying to sound me out. Unless Asaurus' much cleverer than even he knows, I can't see what he was trying to get at."

Kolgrim was silent, staring sternly into his wife's face; she could see that he too could find no clues. "We shouldn't keep Waldron waiting," was all he eventually said.

XXX

The first thing Waldron always said upon meeting a new acquaintance was that the Flame Champion had blown his face away in 423. That effectively explained what couldn't possibly be ignored and the pleasantries could hypothetically begin.

Kolgrim had told Koraly that he doubted Seioras the Flame Champion had personally seen to obliterating Waldron's right eye, nose and disfiguring most of his facial skin, but he agreed the Fire Bringer war had not been a glorious one. More likely Waldron had been hit by a _flammula_, a type of catapult missile illegally made by the Fire Bringer. Highly volatile and messy on impact, they were designed to mimic the power of the True Fire Rune. A man half-destroyed by one could well think he'd withstood the power of its god.

Waldron sat on Kolgrim's right hand, across from Koraly, cradled his partially-crippled right arm on his lap and stared pensively down at his roast swan. Koraly maintained a pleased and friendly smile on her face as she stared at the taut, serrated skin over his right cheekbone, down the hollow jaw to where the lips were gone and his teeth hung like shingles over his lower lip. His nose was like a fossil, a jagged slope of bone half-covered with thin flesh. He wore no eyepatch, and the socket had barely healed to a dark hole, going back an inch into his head before skin blocked it off. His other eye was narrow, pure green, mostly obscured by long gray eyelashes. His thick gray hair hung loose and shoulder-length; Waldron often sat slumped forward, face screened by his mane.

"Does the swan not please you?" Kolgrim asked courteously.

Waldron didn't answer beyond gingerly crossing his knife and fork over the meat and gently sawing.

Koraly lowered her eyes to her own dinner. She reached over to take her wine glass and froze. Noting that Kolgrim and Waldron were both intent on their dinners, she brought the hand a bit closer to her face.

Her dinner gloves had a diamond-shaped panel cut into the back of each hand, and on her right, she could see something strange, a dark shape that looked like it had been tattooed under a thin layer of skin. She looked at it closer: a dark, rippling curve, spanning almost the length of wrist to knuckles.

"Aira." Their butler Zivan was removing her half-finished swan and replacing it with a tall crystal goblet of between-course sherbet. Looking up, she could see their serving maids Brana and Faiga doing the same for the men. She took a small bite of sherbet and fell to studying her hand again.

_A rune, _she marveled. _I'm getting a rune! But it's a physical rune. When am I going to get a chance to use it? I wonder what it does?_

"Kolgrim," Waldron said. "I'm going to kill you now."

Koraly looked up at Waldron. He was turned towards her husband; she could only see the ruin of his profile. A flash of steel caught her attention.

It was in Kolgrim's hands. _He hid a sword?_ It didn't matter that she was a Lebanon, that she'd been trained by a Latkje, she momentarily couldn't string one thought to the next. _What's happening? What's going on?_

"This is about the conclave, isn't it?" Kolgrim asked, speaking in the firm, blank voice of a military commander.

"Among other issues." Waldron cleared his throat. "The King and Crystal Valley think you've become too liberal. They appointed me executioner."

_Kolgrim must have enough influence in the military that they can't just strip us of power,_ Koraly deduced, her mind still removed from the feverish swell of her fear. She could sense it burning away her ability to reason._ Why didn't I know about this sooner? Why did Kolgrim bring a sword? Why didn't he tell me he was suspecting this? Are our spies in the pay of Waldron? Why am I just sitting here?_

Waldron and Kolgrim stood. _What the hell? I can't fight. They're going to kill me_.

_Wait. Waldron can't use his right arm. How does he expect to kill- _Koraly screamed, so hard it felt like her throat had been split open. Zivan pulled back, wrenching the carving knife out of Kolgrim's side. The captain swung around, sword extended and cut through the crystal centerpiece, shattering it like a fountain. As Zivan's head rolled off its shoulders, Waldron drove the length of his stiletto dagger into Kolgrim's ear. Koraly could suddenly hear her own screams, rapid yelps like a wounded dog; she struggled to control herself, but she couldn't escape the sight of the cataract of blood down Kolgrim's shoulder, the sound of his shoulder striking the table and his body sliding to the floor. The moment he left her sight, she cut off her scream abruptly and stared with dilated eyes at the smears of blood on the table cloth.

Waldron half-turned in her direction. Her eyes flew to his face. She could see only the narrowest rim of his one eye.

She felt one of the maids move behind her. She swung to meet her assailant, turning just so Faiga's fist struck her in the jaw. Stars flashed, then light and dark seemed to pull away from each other. Koraly made a nauseated sound far back in her throat before she chose to close her eyes and abandon herself.

XXX

Noama exhaled deeply, trying to sigh out her exhaustion, and dragged the back of her gloved hand across her forehead. She allowed her little mare just a short drink at the fountain before she muscled her into a canter. She clattered over the silvery-gray cobbles of Cwenburra, angling towards the residential district. She slowed to a trot when she entered the Noble Avenues, making her way past pleasure gardens and gracefully built manors. She reined to a halt in front of Renweld Manor and stumbled off onto the ground. She waved a hand at the stableboy who came to see to her horse, telling him to keep the mare saddled and ready, climbed up the front steps and knocked at the door.

She suppressed a shriek at the sight of the butler. "G- ah-"

"I met the Flame Champion in 423," he said, presumably by way of explanation. His tone was phlegmatic, but grim. "What is your business here?"

"I have an urgent message for Aira Renweld."

"You may entrust it to me."

"I was told it was to be delivered to her directly. I am willing to wait."

"Aira Renweld's communications are to come through me or not at all. I apologize."

Noama nodded reluctantly. She'd done all she could. "See that she gets it as soon as she possibly can."

The butler bowed and closed the door.

When the courier had ridden away, Waldron made his way across the front hall and glanced in at the dining room. Some of his men were removing the bodies; others had reported to him earlier that evening, telling him that Kolgrim's loyal lieutenants had been seen to. Waldron broke the letter's seal and read.

It took him several days to break its complex code, but his satisfaction in reading the contents more than compensated. The courier must have ridden harder than the wind; she'd brought the letter from Meymuna to Cwenburra in a bare two days. The warnings of Waldron's attack, the signs and clues, had all been listed in the letter, though Grania Latkje had been unsure of the assassination's time or manner. Stripped of its code, her last line read: _You shall not die now, Koraly. You will act swiftly and you will escape. I have given you the tools you need to survive, and now I send you off with a last warning. Contact me when you are safe._

Waldron slid the paper into his breast pocket. _Well now,_ he mused, even his thoughts flat and dry in his mind. _Won't Dame Grania be sad that her student gets no funeral?_


	7. Chapter 7

Part Four: Encircled

XXX

Chapter Seven

XXX

Unawareness.

Aware of nothing but the dark.

_I have to find out what happened,_ she thought, and then she was truly awake and opened her eyes.

Darkness.

Then the two corners of her vision strung themselves together, and after a gray-edged moment of vertigo, she could see the dark stone ceiling above.

Still staring straight up, Koraly moved her limbs. She wasn't bound. But the permeating stillness of her surroundings made her reluctant to move. The right side of her head was cradled against something warm, giving and taking against her in respiration. She could hear breathing all around.

Slowly, as soundlessly as possible, she sat up.

Pain racketed up her bone structure, dragging against her shoulders and swinging back and forth in her skull, like a clapper in a bell. Again gray snagged at her vision, making her faint for a moment, then it cleared.

The red light of a sunset streaked down from a high window to pool across the chilly stone floor; Koraly regarded it wistfully for a moment, wishing she could use it to climb her way out. By its light, she could make out the dimensions of only one wall, hung with hooks and bits of leather. Her heart hammered, and she tried to beat it flat with reason. _Not necessarily a prison or a torture chamber. It could just be an old tack room._ She dropped her gaze to the floor. There were huddled shapes all around, smaller than she, and she could make out the steady rise and fall of their sides. She closed her eyes and smelled: stone, iron and leather were only the faintest traces. Predominant were the smells of urine, sweat, and that half-discernible scent of fear.

She looked down at what had curled up beside her. A child. She couldn't make out its gender, but she could see the light fall across its stubby fingers and a shallow cut on one plump calf. Koraly grimaced, struggling with a pounding jaw and trying to use years of study to figure out what was going on. She pressed one hand to push off the floor and slowly wavered to her feet.

A cold draft across her shins made her realize she was no longer wearing her long evening skirt. Running her hands feverishly over herself revealed that she was wearing a shapeless tunic, falling halfway to her knees and leaving her arms bare. She had a sudden terrifying image of guards undressing her while she lay unconscious -_Those bastards! Maybe -what if-! No. Maybe they had female guards-?_ It didn't soothe her. She stood shaking for a moment.

_Koraly, it wasn't your fault, and there's nothing you can do now. Get over it._

She sank back down onto the floor and held herself awhile.

_What's going on?_ part of herself continued to wonder, while the other part shook. _I've been captured. Why wasn't I killed? Kolgrim-_

She stopped thinking, giving herself a moment to cry.

She didn't cry._ I'm sorry, Kolgrim. It's callous and selfish, but I'm too worried about myself now. If I ever get to safety, I'll mourn you properly._ Guilt stabbed her._ It's what Grania would want. 'Listen to your mind, not your heart.'_

She waited for guards to approach in the unseen hallway beyond, jeer at her and make half-hints at her fate. They didn't come.

XXX

Hunger woke her next, like acid torturing her innards. There was a heavy weight pressed against her ribcage. Koraly opened her eyes to moonlight. Every child in the room had clustered around her and was asleep_. I must seem like an adult to them,_ she thought vaguely._ A mother_. She fainted back into sleep.

XXX

The metallic rumble of the prison door being slung open sent Koraly sitting up and half of the children scattering, the others pressed hard against her. Koraly opened her eyes wide and immediately shut them against the stabbing light of torches.

"All right, kiddos," said an inexorably bracing male voice. "We're moving out!"

The children, all of whom seemed between five and ten, mainly began to cry.

Guards poured into the prison, jerking children up by the shoulders. One held out a gloved hand to her. He had shaggy blonde hair, and when he spoke, she recognized him as the Bracing One. "Get up and help me with these kids."

"Like heck I will!" she shouted back. "Just where am I, and what are you doing? Do you-" Stars exploded in front of her eyes.

"Don't make me hit you again. Help me with the kids."

Koraly tried to get to her feet, but slipped and came down hard on her left knee. "If you think I _can_-"

Bracing strode around to Koraly's back, thrust his knee into the small of her spine, and shoved her forward and up. Koraly rose and reeled three steps, coming hard against the opposite wall. Her calves and thighs trembled, but held.

The children were being roped together. She felt Bracing One's hands on her waist, working a rope into place. She considered kicking him, but her body continued to sway and shudder involuntarily.

"Aira? Aira?" the child behind her asked softly.

Koraly looked down over her shoulder. A pair of pale green eyes in a white face stared up at her. "Serany," she whispered. Serany was the eight-year old daughter of one of Kolgrim's best friends. She looked down the line of children behind her, being slowly shoved into place. She didn't know them all, but the ones she recognized were all the children of Kolgrim's supporters. _Of course. Damn Harmonia, of course_._ Waldron must have had all their parents killed or imprisoned. This means -don't think of it!_ Too late._ We're going to Crystal Valley._

_If we're not executed here and now, we're going to be slaves._

XXX

It rained for almost all the next three weeks. Wind and lightning rattled the skies. The guards marched all day, picking up more children and prisoners on the way south, out of Sanady's towns and farmlands to the wild lands that eventually led to Crystal Valley, the capital of the Holy Empire.

The mountains and deep, dark woods of Sanady broke away into rocky hill lands and eventually plains. They passed ruins, Sindar and Aronian. At night, they curled up under a shower of summer rain and listened to the sky growl with heat. Some of the younger children grew close, but none to Koraly. The older captives were kept strictly apart from each other.

At the beginning of the second week, the slaves and soldiers had been dragging their way across a muddy plain when they pulled themselves up a ridge and came to a halt. Koraly blinked, trying to focus her eyes, and flicked a strand of slimy hair away from her face.

A crumbling statue stood facing them, a young warrior wearing armor and a long cloak. Time and weather had torn away most of his face, but he extended his right hand, palm up, to the west. Koraly's eyes dropped to the etching on the statue's pedestal: Absolute One.

Hikusaak. The Hero born seven-hundred years ago. The bearer of the Circle Rune. The Holy Emperor.

For a moment, her weary mind worked backwards through time:

_Grania, is Hikusaak still alive? No one's heard definitively from him in over two hundred years._

_No one _we _know, Koraly._

_But still-?_

_Koraly, even if the Hero is no longer alive, I'm not sure it would make such a difference at this point._

Behind the statue rose a fortress, the first outpost of the Empire's homeland. The Circle Rune was set in stone above its gates.

XXX

They arrived at Crystal Valley at midnight. Koraly searched the darkness, eager to see this famous city of learning and power, but all she could really discern were the shapes of buildings and windows shining like low stars in the night. The older prisoners were led one way, the children another, and Koraly was jerked around by Bracing to a third._ Okay, what now?_

He propelled her into a building at the very head of a black street, into a black room and down a long black hallway. His hands clasped her wrists, and Koraly could feel her pulse begin to throb against his fingers. She tried to bring her mind to heel and keep it rational; the hall's length provided ample time to try, but each second made it harder.

A door was pulled open by some unseen porter. _Someone who can see in the dark? It must be a Nay-Kobold. Harmonians are trusting non-humans with secrecy? What have I become part of?_

Bracing stopped abruptly and caught her by the waist before she tipped over. Bracing moved off. Koraly was quiet for a moment, then she whirled as she heard a new man's voice grunt somewhere off to her left.

"Wake up, Harno," Bracing said from the far end of the room. "And be ready. She might hit you." A lamp flared at his corner of the room; Koraly fought the instinct to turn its way and instead tried to sort out the shadows directly in front of her.

A light blazed almost directly in front of her face. Koraly jumped back and was caught by Bracing. He clamped her arms to her sides with his own. "Okay, calm down, and let's make this quick."

After lighting his own lamp, Harno had gotten out of bed and materialized from the shadows. He was a short, wiry man with long red hair and no shirt. He eyed Koraly. "What number?"

"769 Sanadia."

Koraly stopped struggling. As Harno turned away to a bureau by his bed, she felt Bracing chafe her arms. "Calm down. I can feel your heart beat through your back."

_What's Bracing going to do?_ Koraly wondered. _He can't hold my mouth and my arms at the same time._

Harno swung away from his chest of draws, a metal wire in his hands. Simultaneously, Bracing pulled his right arm around her torso, pinning them even more firmly chest to back, and clamped his left hand onto her forehead, dragging her head back against his shoulder. Koraly thrashed to no great effect as Harno's hands and the metal wire fumbled with her face. Harno slipped the wire under her upper lip and tugged it up and back, securing the wire ends behind her ears. Koraly continued to struggle, but she didn't scream; it wouldn't help her.

And the moment she saw the needle in Harno's hands, she gave up fighting.

"Good," Bracing murmured in her ear. "If Harno misses because of you, he's going to put your eye out."

Koraly tensed against his shoulder._ They want me to lie back passively. They really want me to give up._

Bracing rubbed her forehead. "It's going to happen anyway. Is a gouged eye worth fighting over?"

_Gouged eye? Does that stand for my ideals?_

_Oh no, maybe I don't have anything to fight over_.

"I have the ink and needle ready," Harno said.

"This happens to all slaves," Bracing told her. "They live through it."

XXX

"How's your lip?" Bracing asked the next morning. Koraly, from her position curled up on Harno's wooden floor, gave him a long, red-rimmed glare.

"It'll be sore for a few days. It was a needle after all, and, well, binding ink stings. It has to be especially strong to be permanent on the inside lip." He knelt next to her. "Let me see."

Koraly jerked away from him and rolled into a sitting position. Morning light seeped through the shutters on Harno's one window. She couldn't see the inker himself anywhere.

Bracing grabbed the sides of her face with both hands, slid his thumbs into her mouth and pulled her upper lip back. _769 Sanadia _was etched in fine black figures into her skin. He removed his hands. "You're doing fine. Hungry?"

Koraly answered with a livid look.

"I'll go get you something." He turned to go, then stopped. "You_ can_ still speak, right?"

"Yuh _can_ geh gowin, can't yuh?" Koraly fired back.

He nodded. "That wears off too. Usually."

As the door closed and the locks engaged, Koraly got up to pace and try to figure out what was happening. Harmonian slaves were tattooed directly before entering the market, but they were tattooed in large groups, not in secrecy.

Koraly sat down suddenly. _They don't want Grania to be able to track me. They want her to think I'm dead._ From this sudden revelation, Koraly's mind leapt into a gallop._ I have to contact her! She's Harmonian, she must have tens of contacts here, she-_

_She must have tens of enemies here too._

Koraly rubbed her temples, trying to ignore her pounding headache and stinging lip. Grania was a Latkje, so her greatest enemies would lie in the Temple Faction, the Harmonian traditionalists who sought to keep all power among the pure-blooded Harmonian first class and the theocrats. The Latkje family supported the People's Faction, which wanted to dissolve much of Harmonia's class structure and rule with less priestly influence. Koraly closed her eyes, unable to comprehend how much double-dealing there would be between the factions. _Grania, I don't have the faintest clue where to begin to contact you. Why didn't you ever drop any names for me to-_

The Howling Voice Guild. Grania had occasionally mentioned her connection to the elite guild, the only Harmonian organization where skill, not Harmonian blood, determined rank. Ranks of powerful killers that used strange lethal weapons. There were stories about guns with actual souls inside. Koraly had once heard a rumor that Grania had a nephew in the guild. Koraly shook her head, frightened at the very thought of contacting Grania through the guild. If ever there was a dangerous place to have friends, enemies and contacts, it was in the Howling Voice.

Koraly sighed impatiently. _While I'm at it, does she have any friends among the priests and bishops? Isn't there some relation high in the Temple Guards? Not very likely. I wish I knew who she had blackmail on... I wish I knew who to work with. The right people must be here, but how can I find them?_

_And... here I am, a slave now. What's going to happen to me?_

The door flicked open, Bracing tramped in with some sort of roll thing stuffed with plant and meat things. "Eat carefully," he advised. "And fast. I want to be there before noon."

_Crystal Valley must be a big city. Makes sense. It's old and powerful_. Koraly bit into her thing while her tattoo smarted.

XXX

_I suppose there isn't much point in a slave seeing the nexus of the most powerful and ancient Holy Empire of Harmonia,_ Koraly seethed as she tried not to breathe too deeply. The blankets Bracing had draped over her smelled mostly of sour, unwashed human, and he'd only allowed the barest slit for her to breathe through. The cart shook her spine on its uneven axle. Every inconsistency in the cobbled street banged through the wheels into her neck and head. She was soaked with sweat, not only from the midsummer sun, but from fear. Maybe it wasn't the road making the cart shake; maybe it was her heartbeat.

The cart lurched and shuddered before it came to a halt. Koraly thought she heard the horse snort wearily (unless it was Bracing), then she heard or Bracing step out of the cart and walk away. For a long moment, it was just Koraly and her nerves.

Then her sweat was suddenly chilled in a sweep of cold air as the blankets were wrenched off. She saw a high gray wooden ceiling, then Bracing's face. "It's good-bye time," he informed her, holding out a hand to help her upright. She slapped it aside and rolled ungracefully into a sitting position.

"Hurry up, hurry up," said a woman's voice. Koraly's eyes glanced around the room -some sort of warehouse, a storeroom full of crates and bales and sacks- before they rested on a tall thin woman. She had wispy, pale gold hair heaped high on her head; the angles of her face seemed sharp enough to draw blood. Koraly gripped the rail of the wagon to climb over it and out, but the woman grabbed her shoulders and _wrenched_ her out.

Koraly had the briefest impression of the woman slapping some paper money into Bracing's palm before she was propelled by the right shoulder through a narrow doorway. As the woman turned to shut the door, Koraly twisted away. The woman caught the back of her tunic and slung Koraly against the wall. "Enough. And be quiet. The faster we go, the sooner we won't ever see each other again."

Koraly's eyes were still clearing when she heard the shift of warm water. "Undress," the strange woman said. Koraly shot her an aggrieved glare, which wasted time. The woman jerked Koraly's tunic off, picked her up under the arms and slammed her into a small tin tub. She then brandished a bristly sponge and a yellow bar of strong soap. "You ready to scrub yourself?"

Koraly, crouched in the tub with her arms across her front, moved just enough to reach for the amenities.

"Be fast," the woman suggested.

Koraly scrubbed quickly and hard, so hard she half expected to see her flesh come off in sheets. Her grimy skin never grew pink and glowing; it made the immediate transition to irritated red. She ran the soap through her oily hair, which succeeded in making it feel gritty and stiff. Just as she was trying to rinse it out, the woman hauled her out of the bath and into some clean undergarments and a long tan dress with wrist-length sleeves. As Koraly was fumbling into that, the woman dropped a dark brown overdress across her shoulders and handed her a supple leather belt. When Koraly had finally worked her head through the narrow neck-hole, the woman handed her a pair of leather slippers.

Koraly stepped into them. _I can't be a drudge, they've outfitted me too nicely. But what else could I be, if they want to keep me secret?_

"Tie your hair back with this cord." Koraly tied her hair back. "Follow me." Koraly followed.

Koraly was led out of the basement areas and servant galleries into the back passages of what could only be a nobleman's manor. When she and the woman stepped out of a side door and emerged into a corridor, Koraly gave the portraits and curios lining the walls an appraising glance. Certainly a rich owner. But no richer than she had been, less than a month ago.

The woman stopped in front a pair of heavy cedar doors and knocked discreetly. "Enter," said a woman's voice. The door swung open.

It was a library. Bookshelves stood like ramparts on either side of a circular reading area with assorted chairs and tables. Everything was upholstered in shades of burgundy and sepia. A pair of wide double doors opened to a balcony that must look over the city. All Koraly could see from where she stood was white daylight. She turned her attention to where it should have always been.

The family of the house seemed to be arrayed within. A lord with wavy blonde hair clipped close above his ears sat in one chair with a notebook balanced in one hand and a quill angled in the other. He had light, finely cut features and dark blue eyes. His lady sat opposite, a willowy woman with white-blonde hair dressed in gray. A little girl sat on the floor between them, a tray of dainties having just been placed in her lap by an attendant footman. She had a round face and curly blonde hair that surrounded her head like a halo.

The strange woman bowed respectfully. The last thing Koraly wanted to do was bow, but she refused to be stupid. She bowed too, as if she knew what she was doing here.

"Yes, Helesa?" the lord asked, his voice a reedy tenor.

"Lord Bernarr, Lady Icasia, Miss Luginia's new governess has arrived."

_What?_ Koraly bowed her head respectfully.

"My new governess?" the little girl squealed. "My very first?" Koraly gave her a little smile and tried to orient herself.

"Thank you, Helesa," Lord Bernarr was saying. "You may leave." Helesa bowed again and left.

No sooner had the door shut then Lord Bernarr rose smoothly to his feet and strode across the room. He stopped about four paces from Koraly and clasped his hands behind his back. "Koraly Lebanon Renweld?"

Koraly looked blankly up at him.

"That Helesa's a fool, isn't she?"

"Indeed," Koraly answered with relish -then realized her blunder. He had been speaking in Sindar, and she had answered in like._ Damn, he knows what to look for._

Lord Bernarr was nodding to himself. "I am to assume you are the real thing then, and not just some Sanadian pig-farmer's waif. Regardless, it's obvious you've had a superior education." He turned to his daughter. "Say hello to your new governess."

Luginia shifted the treat tray and scrambled to her feet. She trotted over and stared curiously up at Koraly. "_What's_ her name?" she asked her father.

"It doesn't matter. Today you get to give her a new one." Koraly refused to let her eyes blaze up at him and kept them resolutely under her eyelashes. Luginia stared at her consideringly.

"Why don't you say hello? Make her feel welcome."

Luginia weaved on her feet a bit as she thought this over. Then she removed two large silver bracelets she wore on her wrists and held them up. "Here. These are for you."

Koraly glanced up at her master's face; it was neutral. She slowly took the bracelets and said, "Thank you, Miss Luginia."

"Put them on!" Luginia demanded.

Gritting her teeth behind her lips, Koraly slipped one onto each wrist.

Luginia nodded with satisfaction. "Keep them on. I like them on you. Your new name is Bangles."

Bangles' throat constricted.

XXX

The bracelets never came off.

"But I don't want to get soap on them," Bangles explained as she looked longingly at her first real bathtub in three weeks. "They're so nice."

"You don't like my present!" Luginia wailed.

Lady Icasia shot Bangles a glance.

_I'm a slave_. Bangles climbed into the bathtub, bracelets in place. _A coddled slave at their gold-edged mercy._

Lessons were to begin the next week. Bangles had walked into her small apartment adjacent to Luginia's pink bedroom to find a soft bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and reams of books. "Luginia must be ready for the Soledt Academy in several years," Lord Bernarr had impressed upon her. He'd studied Bangle's face. "What does that downward glance of the eyes mean?"

Bangles had pressed her lips together, making her tattoo smart. Then she'd said, very quickly and flatly, "It means I'm wondering why you didn't hire a more conveniently situated Harmonian governess."

Lord Bernarr had leaned back in his library chair. "I'm a curio collector, Bangles. There's very little noble Sanadian blood left to be had. And I was a great admirer of your late father's poetry, being a poet myself. When I heard that you were going to be killed, my curiosity -and sympathy- were baited. So I asked that you be delivered to my doorstep. I trust my daughter will benefit under the tutelage of one of Grania Latkje's students."

Bangles eyes had darted up. "You knew about Waldron's attack?"

Lord Bernarr had grimaced, taken up his quill and opened his notebook. "Go acquaint yourself with my daughter, Bangles."

"But-"

He had stopped her with a sharp look.

Bangles worked real soap through her hair and tried not to watch her bracelets flashing in the candlelight. Night was falling, and she could hear Lady Icasia tucking Luginia in. _I'm safe. But my name is Bangles. Damn -no. I can't damn a little girl, even if she has all the makings of a tyrant._

_Lord Bernarr mentioned Grania. Is he a friend to the Latkjes? He certainly seems to admire Grania academically._

Bangles sat up in the tub. _Is Grania behind this? Has she delivered me into her friends' hands? Oh-!_

_Or..._

_Or am I just one of the poet's curios?_

_This Lebanon blood of mine. When is it going to do me any good?_

_Grania... I miss you. You're the only mother I can remember, and there doesn't seem to be anything we can do to help each other now. Is Waldron your enemy? Has he killed you? No!_

Bangles sighed. _This isn't doing me any good._

When she finally fell asleep that night, she dreamed of Kolgrim for the first time since his death. They were sitting on the bench of Meymuna, and she was picking half-heartedly at her guitar strings. "What's wrong?" Kolgrim asked.

She sighed irritably and shook her head. "It's not working. I just can't write a song about you. Nothing comes to me. I haven't even cried for you yet. I want to cry, but the tears never come. I only cry over myself."

"You wanted to write a song about yourself," Kolgrim gently reminded her.

"I can't write that either."


	8. Chapter 8

8

XXX

Bangles woke up on her nineteenth birthday with a headache already lodged securely in her forehead. She sighed, as if that would release the pressure, and kneaded the skin between her eyebrows. After a long moment of hoping it would dissipate, she swung rapidly out of bed, nearly tipped over as her head protested it, shrugged on her robe and shuffled to the bathroom.

Luginia didn't need to be awake for an hour, and this space before dawn was Bangles' favorite time of day, barring the moment when she crawled into bed at night. She filled the tub with warm water, added a few of the less wonderful bath salts and climbed in. She got some ointment and, slipping her fingers under the silver bracelets, rubbed her chapped wrists. Then she lay back and soaked and tried to think what would be the best method of getting through the day. _I'll have Luginia translate some Sindar sutras, that should keep her occupied the morning. Maybe I can get some more reading done in _Riou the Adventurer. _Let's see, there's a dinner party tonight. I wonder if it's true that the recent Temple Faction attacks have killed all the Latkjes...Oh Grania._...It sounded weary rather than desperate._ Grania, if you weren't killed years ago, I hope your wits keep saving you. _It had been years since she'd formulated any plans to contact Grania. Bernarr had kept her strictly in the manor and frowned on her conversing with other staff in general. Of course, it had been nearly a year since she'd spoken to the poet himself.

Bangles dripped out of the tub, dried herself, and dressed. Then she leaned forward across the vanity and studied herself in the mirror, something she made a point to do on every birthday.

Her face and nose had lengthened since she was fourteen (though thankfully not any more in the past year.) But she seemed to have lost her cheeks, and her mouth, though fine, was far too thin for beauty. _I look like I'm always compressing my lips._ She fingered a few blemishes at her temples and along her hairline. Then, with a slight smile of satisfaction, she ran her fingers through her silky hair, watching its gleams billow and narrow with motion She studied her eyes a moment, dark brown. Bangles gathered her waist-length hair into a tail and strode out to wake Luginia.

XXX

That night, Bangles pulled her window open to let in the moonlight and crawled into bed. She wasn't even close to approaching sleep five minutes later when she heard a tap at the door. She sat up on her elbow. "Miss Luginia?"

Her nine year old mistress padded in, looking like a child's ghost in her long eyelet nightgown. "Bangles?"

The slave shook her head and smiled slightly. "Who else?"

Luginia trotted over and climbed into bed next to her. "Let me stay with you."

Bangles raised her eyebrows, but she wasn't the one to say no. She lay back down and felt Luginia curl up next to her. After a few moments of silence, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

Luginia ran her fingers over the soft pillowcase a few times before saying, "Daddy's going to be sending me to the Soledt Academy in a month."

Bangles knew that, and while she could hardly imagine her frowsy-haired, apple-cheeked mistress earning a degree in military science, she could understand her fear. "But you knew that was coming."

"But I- No one's going with me."

"You'll get new servants there."

"No mommy, no daddy."

Bangles frowned slightly._ What's going to be happening to me? My usefulness is disappearing in a month._ "You'll...adjust."

"I don't wanna adjust!" Luginia wailed. "I wanna stay here!"

Bangles put her arm around the little girl. "We don't want to talk about this now. It's night, dark and gloomy and nothing looks as good as it really is."

Luginia turned away irritably. _You're the one who wanted me to comfort you,_ Bangles thought caustically. _Be happy that at least you know where you'll be in a month!_ She rolled over and faced the other wall.

XXX

"REEE-uuuuu," Bangles enunciated slowly, carefully. Patiently. "Gen-GAH-ku."

"Reee-UUUUUUU," Luginia repeated. "GEN-gaku."

Bangles slammed her copy of _Riou the Adventurer_ down on the desk and demanded, "Which one of us is the scholar?"

"I'll pronounce it _my_ way!" Luginia shrieked.

Bangles leaned back in her chair and rubbed between her eyes. Each day as the Soledt Academy approached, Luginia was less and less interested in learning. At least, learning anything that remotely conformed to reality. "Luginia," Bangles said slowly, using the four syllables of her mistress' name as time to calm herself, "you're going off to school at the end of the week. And if you don't pronounce things -especially famous names- correctly, everyone will laugh at you. And as I've told you a thousand times, you pronounce both of Riou's names on the penultimate syllable so-"

Luginia crossed her arms over her chest, gave Bangles an arctic stare from beneath her white lashes, and singsonged: "But you know what? I don't have to care, at least, not when it comes from _you_."

Bangles repaid her with an equally arctic smirk. "No. I suppose you don't. Please continue reading passage 144."

Luginia tilted her copy into reading position. " '_And so the great man spake unto Ree-UUUU GEN-gaku, "Sooth, be not so desolate; come and revel with me and see if you still resist enjoying the bounty of our vineyards in an hour.' But Reee-UUUU the brave shook his head and thusly spake: "Nay, Viktor, I dare not. For anon the time draweth nigh that-_"'"

There was a discreet tap at the door. The governess and pupil both looked up as one of Lord Bernarr's manservents stepped inside. He bowed. "A fair noon, Lady Luginia."

Luginia crinkled her nose. "Get on."

"Milord Bernarr commands the presence of your tutor Bangles as soon as milady's lessons are completed."

Luginia tossed her book to one side, regardless of Bangles' narrow-eyed glare. "They are. Dad can have her."

Bangles bowed respectfully and committed the redundancy her station demanded. "Milady's leave?"

"Natch."

Bangles rose and followed the valet out and down the only path in the manor that was truly familiar to her: that to the library. It had been rare that Bernarr or Luginia had ever given her cause to go anywhere but to Luginia's room or to the library. She stepped inside, bowed and listened to the valet leave and the door close behind her.

Lord Bernarr was reclining on a long couch by the window, one of his notebooks propped up on his stomach; his quill tapped one of the couch legs impatiently. He gestured Bangles closer without looking at her.

Bangles was intrigued and wary; after a year of silence, she'd expected him to begin talking as soon as she entered, or at least be surprised that she had come to the appointment so early. Though she knew he was a poet, she hadn't guessed he could be so engrossed in his work. She moved across the room towards him.

Still Lord Bernarr did not look up. He flipped the notebook up to her and said, in a tired voice, "Read this aloud."

Bangles took the notebook and backed away several steps. He wanted to hear his verse from some voice other than his own, that much was obvious. And perhaps he wanted to hear it from a Latkje-trained Sanadian throat. Well then. Bangles glanced down at the narrow lines of hasty writing, moistened her lips and read:

_Now that my soul has stopped,_

_I see myself an empty hole into which so many others have fallen._

_Now that my soul has stopped,_

_I know I shall never be anything but that empty pit._

_And if only I could find the one_

_Unafraid of the dark_

_Ye gads. This stuff is awful. Did my father ever sound like that?_ Bangles waited, silent and attentive for her next order. Lord Bernarr stared into oblivion, sucking the feathered end of his quill and looking grimly flummoxed. Then he took the quill out of his mouth and sighed heavily, so heavily Bangles could almost feel it. He extended his hand. Bangles slid the notebook gently into his palm and then clasped her hands respectfully. Lord Bernarr stared at his composition several moments longer, then looked up.

"You read that well." Despite the compliment, his voice was still heavy with weariness, and his eyes were dull. "Your voice chivvied the words to dance, and your Sanadian accent added mystique. But..." He tightened his lips in a half-hearted grimace. "Tell me what you thought of it."

Bangles' eyebrows arched in surprise. "Milord?"

"Yes," he said patiently. "Tell me what you thought of it. The child of Gavril Lebanon is entitled to critique."

Bangles fought the impulse to turn away, to hide her amazement and awkwardness. "May I...may I look at it again, milord?" He handed it to her. She raised it to eye-level, shielding her face from his. Why weren't they discussing Luginia's qualifications as a Soledt student? Why wasn't he telling Bangles what would happen to her at the end of the week?

Bangles took a concentrated moment to drag these questions away from herself before trying to focus on the poem. But her awkwardness wouldn't be removed, and she read the entire poem several times without acknowledging any of it.

After a time, Lord Bernarr must have realized she needed prompting. Following a drawn sigh, he asked, "What sort of man wrote this, do you suppose?"

"An alienated one," Bangles answered hesitantly, glancing cautiously into Lord Bernarr's blank face. "A guilty man. One who wishes his life was different." _One who shouldn't be a poet at all. Why are you asking this of me?_

"And..." For a moment, he seemed so tired, Bangles thought he wouldn't conclude the sentence. "...Do you think his life ever will be?"

Bangles glanced back down at the lines, as if she'd discover they were some helpful code. "He doesn't seem to think so. But then, he doesn't say anything for certain."

Lord Bernarr snorted softly. "Who could?" He reached back for the notebook, closed it and sat up straighter on the couch. "Now then. Concerning Luginia."

Bangles' shoulders slumped slightly with relief, then tensed again as she remembered the end of the week. "Yes, milord?"

"You know you will not be accompanying her to the Soledt Academy as it is their custom to center their students' lives around academia and not monetary advantage." _A lot of good that does_. Bangles tried to keep the cynicism out of her face and remain serene as Lord Bernarr continued. "Yet... having brought you so expressly to my household five years ago, I'm reluctant to relegate you to drudge work."

Bangles kept her voice neutral. "Thank you, milord." _Compassion only goes so far, when the compassionate one owns you._

He looked up at her, his expression more alert, trying to engage her in a conversation. "What would you like to do, Bangles?"

_Go free._ The next few seconds were spent in keeping the request out of her eyes. "I would like...if it pleases milord... to continue learning."

"Teaching my daughter has furthered your education?"

"Very much, milord."

"Then I too would like you to continue learning. But I can't keep a slave-scholar for her own sake, and I don't require a scribe. However, my wife might. And if not, I can think of several acquaintances who desire a capable governess."

Bangles compressed her lips over her sinking heart.

"Rest assured, you won't go to waste."

_No. Not at all. At least, as far as whatever employer cares._

It had to have come through in her face, because his face changed too. Bangles braced as she realized he was studying her. "The idea does not appeal to you?"

Bangles found she no longer had a voice for the slave's all-accommodating submission, though the voice she found herself speaking in was still quiet. "No, milord. Very few futures appeal to a slave."

His lips tightened. "I imagine only one would."

Bangles looked away. She felt Lord Bernarr's eyes remain on her, as if he were touching her face. She studied the pattern on the carpet, the long harsh shadows cast by the furniture. When he finally spoke, it almost seemed that his words jerked up through Bangles' shoulder and snapped her head around to face him: "What advice would you give to the man in my poem?"

Bangles stared senselessly back at him a moment, not wanting to acknowledge they'd returned to this subject. She tried to remember the poem's point, the impressions it had given her. She swallowed. "The man described himself as a pit others had fallen into."

Lord Bernarr nodded.

"I would tell him...that people make their own mistakes. That being a pit doesn't make him guilty of trapping the unwary." Her answer sounded insufficient to her, incomplete and perhaps even untrue, but it was the first response that had come to her, and she didn't have the composure to think of a better one.

He stared at her. She refused to look away this time and spent the next few heartbeats staring uneasily into his face.

After a long moment, he moved his hand slightly. "You're dismissed." His voice was quiet.

"Milord," she murmured before turning away, crossing the room and shutting the door behind her.

XXX

"_Walk_ out the door," Bangles grated, a little amazed that on the last day of five years of servitude, she was the one commanding.

Luginia glared up at her.

"For the_ last_ time, Lady Luginia-"

Lady Icasia swooped into Luginia's bedroom. "Luginia! The carriages have been standing for nearly an hour!" She grabbed her daughter's arm and hauled her out the door, Luginia dragging her feet so that it reminded Bangles of a horse pulling a plow through granite.

At the front gate, Luginia had no words for her governess. She gave Bangles one look over her shoulder and lifted her eyebrows pleadingly, as if the slave could halt her masters. Bangles was not about to cry. She'd never liked Luginia, seen the young girl more as a meal ticket, or a vitally necessary evil. It struck her now that she was heartless.

"I'm sorry, Lady Luginia," she said softly. _Not that you're leaving, but that I never even tried to like you._ Memories of Kolgrim, her admired but unmourned husband came close, but she shoved them again aside. _Still, I'm so glad she's leaving._

The family kissed, then Lord Bernarr lead Luginia by the hand to her carriage, lifted her in and closed the door. After a few minutes, whips cracked and the carriages rolled smartly away into the city. The academy was only a few miles away, but they wouldn't see Luginia again for four months.

The lord and lady exchanged blank looks, Bernarr's tired, Icasia's guarded, then the two proceeded back into the manor. Bangles turned with the other slaves and followed them in. _What's next?_

XXX

For the next week or so, Bangles was allowed to do absolutely nothing but read and fret about her future. Eventually she was assigned to be Lady Icasia's scribe, a task she found just as irritating as tutoring Luginia had been and far less interesting. Lady Icasia, while being entirely literate, wasn't inclined to write and had Bangles copying out market lists, inventories, and spiteful, complaining letters to Icasia's vast ring of friends and family. But, in spite of all her vitriol, the lady's personality remained much of an enigma; Bangles found her to be obsessively reticent. Nor did she seem ready to like her new scribe until she was given some wonderful reason to. She watched Bangles as she wrote, her gaze haughty and remorseless.

XXX

Bangles bowed. "You asked for me, milord?"

This time, Lord Bernarr seemed to have been waiting for her. His notebook and quill were present, but both were placed on a low table by his chair in which he sat erect. He looked up at her the moment she entered the room and smiled, eyes bright. "Yes, Koraly."

The slave made a sound far back in her throat, and her eyes rounded. "What did you call me?" she whispered.

"Koraly," he answered. "Koraly Lebanon Renweld. Come here."

Slowly, she came forward, eyes still wide and astonished.

"Give me your wrists." He grasped a bracelet in each hand and fluidly, dragging the familiar smooth metal against her flesh, pulled them over her hands and off.

Koraly's questions were crowding in her throat. "Milord-" She met his eyes incredulously. "Are you letting me go?"

He stared at her in surprise. "No."

Koraly felt a choking sensation in her throat. "No?"

Lord Bernarr's face was full of regret. "I'm sorry you thought so. But no. I just think it's time you were freed from that horrible name my daughter gave you."

"And offered my old name? That's-" Enveloping disappointment made Koraly speak her mind. "That's hardly Harmonian custom. Why don't you give me a _new_ horrible name?" She cut herself off then, aghast.

He smiled ruefully. "I won't punish you for being disappointed, don't worry. Anyway." He set the bangles aside on the table and assumed a brisker tone. "You've been my wife's scribe for a month now. How does it suit you, Koraly?"

Koraly relished the sound of her name before her anger reasserted itself. _Stay calm._ She looked down at her clasped hands, the slender curve of the wrists she hadn't seen clearly in years. Despite the chapped and metal-greened skin, they suddenly struck her as graceful, strong and beautiful. "It...suits me well enough, milord."

"Hm. You're growing stagnant. I can see it in the way your eyes darkened as you said that."

Koraly had an immediate urge to step away from him, though she slew it.

"I'm correct?"

"Yes, milord."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes, milord."

"So I give you permission to use this library during your unoccupied time."

Koraly's eyes darted up; Bernarr could see their sudden brightness. "Thank you, milord."

"You can repay me," he said with a grin (_Ah. He's joking._), "by telling me your thoughts on this." And he handed the notebook over.

_Please, not this_. It wasn't the poetry's style that bothered Koraly so much as the fact that once again he was placing this privileged duty on her. Or perhaps it was the content.

_A world of blazing light,_

_Searing the eye,_

_Ripping and sucking out the eye's sight._

_All the eye wishes to see,_

_Is the cool blot of darkness approaching._

_Darkness: come and save me._

Koraly wordlessly handed the notebook back, grimacing inside.

Lord Bernarr looked companionably up at her. "What did you think?"

_Words you can't make me say._ "It's...a very nice poem, milord."

He frowned at her. "I don't want that sort of answer, Koraly. You are educated. What's more, I can see your depth. You can tell me what this poem means."

Koraly willed her hands not to fidget, her voice to remain level. "The speaker searches for comfort in a harsh world."

Bernarr nodded. "Exactly. I worked hard to achieve the sense that he would..." He looked down at the lines. "...die without it."

Koraly tightened her lips. "He's looking about it the wrong way, I think. He should learn to heal himself, then he can comfort as well as be comforted."

Lord Bernarr gave a sharp laugh. "You're an idealist, Koraly. It's an attractive quality, but one universally lost. You'll learn that there are some pains only the love of another can heal."

_Pains of the ego, maybe_, Koraly replied caustically.

"Being alone so long," Bernarr was saying, "I imagine you've had to heal many of your own hurts."

_Or let them fester under bad bandaging. I want to be back in my room._

"Let me see your wrists again," he said gently. Koraly extended them. He took her hands and studied the skin while Koraly's fingers curled away from touching his palms. He prodded one wrist gently. "Does that hurt?"

"No, milord."

He took a deep breath. "You need not call me lord in here."

"With respect, I would prefer to, milord."

He turned her wrists over, studying their undersides. Koraly looked at their graceful angles, not at her master. "I'll send some ointment up to your room," Bernarr said after several minutes of scrutiny. "The damage of five years is ugly, but not irreversible."

"Thank you, milord." And then, because it had been fighting in her so long to get out, she asked, "May I go now? Lady Icasia said she might want me to draft a letter this evening."

Lord Bernarr looked up guiltily from their joined hands. "Of course." He released her hands. "By all means. But remember, the library is free to you now."

"Thank you, milord." Then she turned and walked out with a deliberate slowness. Just so she wouldn't accidentally run.

XXX

Koraly added the final curlicue on the heavily embellished _parvenu_ in Lady Icasia's latest letter to her sister in the Republic of Dunan.

"Read my last sentence," Lady Icasia asked abstractedly from her easy chair where her feet were propped up on a footstool while a slave scoured them with a pumice stone.

Koraly cleared her throat. "'_Lord Ludweller is nothing more than an uncouth parvenu_.' I emphasized_ parvenu_ with flourishes."

Lady Icasia sniffed. Just because Koraly was learning to anticipate her commands didn't mean she had to appreciate it. She kicked the slave away and slipped on her sharp-heeled slippers. Then boredom struck her, lightning-like (another thing Koraly hated about her), and she reached over to Lord Bernarr's writing desk and grabbed several sheaves of poetry. "Is Lord Bernarr back?"

"He said he would return from the Circle Palace around dusk," a valet informed her.

Icasia smirked and glanced at one poem. "Trash." She ripped it cleanly into six pieces and dropped them on the floor. She picked up another. "Koraly." Koraly poised her pen. "Write this: The weather has been lovely, so I have had no chance to wear the lovely purple rain cloak you sent me. As purple will be out of fashion by the New Year, I am sending your gift back." That accomplished, she ripped up the second poem. A slave scurried to dispose of the pieces.

"Hmph," Lady Icasia snorted softly. She studied the third poem a long time, her fine brows slanting sharply. "This one is interesting. Listen:

_She drags the chains of my love away_

_Yet I draw them close._

_I repair the padlocks she seeks to destroy._

_This tempting creature_

_Wants to haul the chains away_

_As once her wrists I unbound._

_Yet I will remain a captured creature,_

_Longing for the day she chains herself beside me._

_Oh my word._ Koraly was frozen. Slowly, she looked at Icasia out of the corners of her eyes.

Lady Icasia tossed the poem carelessly over her shoulder, then glanced out the window at the swift-coming twilight. "Koraly." Koraly didn't move. "Next line, please." Koraly's quill tip touched the parchment. Icasia cleared her throat and dictated: "'Things here are interesting however. My scribe seems to have pleased my husband greatly, so I'm sending her to the slums tonight, after she finishes this letter.'"

_Where can I run?_ Koraly asked herself. Then: _DAMN._

"Lock the door," Icasia told the valet. The door was locked. "If she wants to escape, she can jump out of this window and kill herself, that's fine."

"Milady," Koraly said quickly.

Icasia smiled. "No words are necessary."

"I didn't-" Koraly saw glass flash through the air as Icasia grabbed one of Bernarr's inkwells and flung it at her. It hit the corner of the desk Koraly was sitting at, shattered and threw ink across the desktop.

"My aim's off," Icasia observed. "I'll practice." She picked up an amethyst paper weight. "Hold her still, will you?"

Koraly elbowed the valet in the stomach as he came behind her, but all he did was bend forward and fling his arms around her torso. Koraly's lower half thrashed, kicking the desk legs and upending the chair. She was aware of Icasia coming closer.

The amethyst caught against her forehead; Icasia dug the edges in and dragged it away. Pain scrabbled across Koraly's head, her nerves so drawn she could not tell if she was bleeding. Then the world shattered into black as the amethyst slammed into the back of her head. Koraly reeled forward, gasping. The sharp amethyst tore into her a third time, biting above her left ear, then pounded the same spot.

_Stop it,_ Koraly irrationally wanted to say._ You aren't strong enough to knock me out, you're just going to hurt me._

"Damn," she heard Icasia say high above her. Then there was a rush of fabric, and Icasia's shoe-heel stabbed the side of Koraly's face. Lights erupted in her eyes and died suddenly.

XXX

She woke up in a cart, but the first thing she acknowledged was the blood oozing out of her head. _She let me live._

Then she realized she was in a cart, and it was night, and the air was foul.

Her head was in no condition to be lifted. She tried opening her eyes. She immediately stopped trying and probably would've dropped back into unconsciousness if she hadn't realized that the cart was not moving, and that she was lying at an angle, so there was no horse to draw it.

She kept her eyes closed. _They've abandoned me in the Slums_.

_How appropriate. Finally after nineteen years, I'm in the place I belong_.

The place all third-class citizens of Harmonia belonged.

Then: _NO! I have to get up! I have to move! Anyone could be out there, and I have to take care of myself and-_

_...oh no. I can't move, I can't. I'd like to die right now if it would end this pain and nausea and..._

_Move. Can't move. Can't save myself._

_Never could._

She blacked out for an hour. When a cold raindrop punched her cheek, she jerked awake. More raindrops followed, cool and wet. She shifted so they hit the wound on her head, cooling the pain, maybe.

_Go ahead, whoever's out there. Come on. Rape me. Kill me. Let's get it over with. I'm done._

_You idiot. Get up._

She opened her eyes, shut them as rain trickled between the lids, then parted them into slits. Her lashes, the rain and the night conspired to render her absolutely blind.

Time to sit up.

She clenched her muscles, shoved her arms under her chest, and pushed off the cart.

Time to retch._ Okay, okay, get it done with...Oh, there's a bit more, okay, okay. That all? That's all you've got to say, Stomach? Good._

She sat completely up. The world danced a reel while melting.

_Oh. Okay, Stomach, you weren't done._

Then she concentrated on blinking her eyes into focus while her equilibrium swung back and forth like a pendulum. She felt herself sliding down the slanting cart but didn't register it until her knees hit the pavement, sending her landing on her right hand. She breathed hard, trying to keep her stomach down, and see, and think.

She lifted her hand without really thinking about it and tentatively fingered her head-wound. She'd been expecting a hole, an inch in diameter, running three inches deep into her skull, similar dimensions to Lady Icasia's shoe-heel. She felt her liquid-slick hair, cold with rain and night-cooled blood. She probed a little deeper, discovered a lump._ Cute. So cute...Suits you well..._

_Oh no. I can only see out of one eye._

_Oh no, SHE GOUGED OUT MY EYE WITH HER SHOE-HEEL!_

As foolish as she knew it was, Koraly's hands flew scrabbling to her face. _Blood -caked blood all over me...oh...It's just covering my eye .Oh. Be nice if the rain loosened it or..._

_Do I think I can get up now?_

_What was that sound?_

Blood-covered eye or not, the rain and darkness didn't let her see much, only the faintest bulks throwing off the faintest glares of light. She also guessed that the rain would be covering any number of noises and smells.

_What can see in the dark? Nay-Kobolds. Well, they're not going to rape me, though they could kill me...for some unknown reason. If they're humans, they'll need lanterns._

_Where can I hide?_

_Hell, I'm not even sure I heard a noise._

Then the hands grabbed her.

Koraly screamed, above the pain, above the nausea, above the terror. It didn't do her any good however as she was immediately slung sideways in someone's arms. Through the rain and her thrashing, she caught the light of a lantern -he -or they -had approached from her blind side- but she could see nothing of the person who held her. The lantern was handed to someone else, but Koraly's head had been flung back against her captor's shoulder, and all she could see were the needles of rain. She closed her eyes, her brain swinging and tumbling in her head, and was unable to resist as she was carried down a dark alley.

It was a good thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Part Five: New Moon

XXX

9

XXX

Koraly had no memory of being carried through the alley. Darkness, pain and vertigo simply obliterated it. It wasn't until a door swung open and she saw gold lamplight that she began thrashing again. Her captor tripped, overbalanced and sent them both crashing to the floor. Koraly jerked to one side and jack-knifed with her legs, almost tripping the other man as well as a tall chest of drawers that would have landed on her head. She twisted around again, unable to sit up, and cast around the room, waiting for the men to come crowding around her.

The three men were watching her, eyes narrowed.

"Really pathetic," Koraly huffed. "I'm incapacitated -puff -The best you could find?" _I might as well snark as I go down._

"I can't believe it," a woman's voice breathed, the smoothest edge of a sob catching her words.

Koraly craned her neck around, blinking away the scintillating lights at the corners of her eyes. "I can't believe it," she said back.

She contemplated shouting, or just bursting into tears, but in the end, all she asked was, "What took you so long?"

Grania Latkje dropped to her knees next to Koraly and immediately supported her head.

"Ow."

"Ech. You _are_ beat up." Then Grania pulled her close. "Koraly!"

Hesitantly, Koraly put her arms around the older woman -the old woman. Grania's body felt frail and thin, emaciated. Koraly wanted to pull back and study the alarming changes in her teacher's face, but had no strength. She sagged against Grania's shoulder, getting blood all over her.

"How did you find me?"

"I've known where you were for a year now. When Lord Bernarr fired his valet, the valet came straight to the Slums and...well, there are ears everywhere, aren't there? When I heard of Icasia's men dropping a young, black-haired girl here, I hoped it would be worth my while to investigate."

"I don't even remember the valet," Koraly hazily replied.

"Well, he noticed you, and in ways you don't want to know. When he mentioned that you spoke with a Sanadian accent...it wasn't hard...but you need something less than information right now." She began to ease Koraly back into a reclining position. "Get a pillow, one of you."

"What're you doing here?" A coarse pillow was slipped under her head.

"Still obedient. Sleep. My men will try to scrounge up a decent healer from the church. Oh. You're already asleep. Well then." A tear slid down Grania's hollow cheek. "Good girl."

XXX

"Your hair will hide it once it heals."

"Whee." Koraly glanced at her bandage turban in Grania's chintzy mirror. Aside from that, she didn't look much the worse for wear, aside from bruise-eyes due to lack of good sleep in the last day and a half. She turned from the mirror, looked around the ground-floor garret that was Grania's home. A musty fireplace, the chest of drawers, the bundle of blankets that served as a bed, and the few books Grania had been able to save from the harrowing of the Latkje estates. Wordless, Koraly reached over and picked one up. _Rhapsodia _by Andarc Bergman.

Grania continued to watch her. "I was lured away from Meymuna to Crystal Valley three years ago, a false rumor that my father was dying. The Temple Faction gathered us together in our ancestral home and proceeded to destroy us. Very little escaped."

"What of your family?"

She shook her head. "Out of us who were there? I don't know. If any survived, they're like me, hiding in some slums, feasting greedily on whatever scraps of information they can find. Others, well..." Suddenly, there was her old, quick fox-smile. "We Latkjes have a way of slipping through and thriving like crabgrass." Her smile deepened evilly. "We've even just had a wedding. The line should flourish. I'm just not sure by whose definition of _flourish._"

Koraly arched her eyebrows, knowing Grania wouldn't say more. As she left Koraly's side and rose, the student watched her movements, jerky with rheumatism, the swing of the gray-streaked hair, the way the shadows collected under her eyes and in her cheeks and smile.

"What are your plans?" Koraly asked as Grania attempted to light a fire in the grate.

Grania half-smiled. "You sounded just like your father there."

"How so?" Koraly asked, more challengingly than she meant to.

Grania eyed her peripherally. "You don't like to focus too much on your heart, no matter what it's feeling. Getting to business gives you an easier route. I know. I'm much the same, and both your parents were."

"For six years you haven't picked my psyche," Koraly commented blandly. "Couldn't you wait a bit longer?"

Again Grania glanced sidelong, but this time, it was she who was vaguely challenging. When she spoke, she returned to Koraly's initial question. "Make what you will of it, dear, but I have no plans."

"What?"

Grania shook her head. "With so few leads and contacts, most plans I made would be built on uncertain facts and presuppositions. In other words, useless. Once I have sufficient information, _then_ I will begin planning again."

"You've been here for three years?"

"Not that long. But I can't tell you more than that." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm reliant on the few secrets I still possess."

"So you won't be relating any long-term stratagems?"

"Phh. It's hard enough keeping my identity secret. Like you, my dear, I am supposed to be dead."

"Hmph. Do we have graves somewhere? Grania, just get one of your guys to light the fire when they get back."

"I suppose so. Damn, it's cold." She glanced balefully at the four thin walls.

"So," Koraly said, changing the subject. "How long do I have to suffer this ugly hat?"

"Two weeks."

"And then?"

"You're asking _me_ your long term plans?"

Koraly frowned, tears pinching her eyes. "Aren't you going to help me?"

Grania's answering look was intended to be bland, but her heavy eyes gave her away. "I can't help you much."

Koraly sighed. "What are the options of a dumped slave in the Crystal Valley Slums?"

"Prostitution."

"Yes, that makes sense," Koraly said easily. Then the tears broke free and silently chased each other down her face. "I -I'm not going to-"

"Then you'll have to get out of these slums."

Koraly's frown was angrier. "If you couldn't, I don't see how _I_ can!"

"Didn't you listen to the little I told you?" Grania demanded. "I _came_ to the Slums voluntarily!" Though unable to light a fire in the grate, she and her eyes were spark-bright. "This is the closest I can get to my enemies -if there's any information to be had, this is the only place I can get it."

"In the _Slums_?"

"Don't be stupid just because you're angry, Koraly. I _can _get you out of here, if you want."

"And how? I think Lady Icasia was angry enough to alert the Slum guards that they shouldn't let a girl like me through."

Grania waved that aside. "That's the least of our worries. Do you really want to leave?"

"Yes!" Koraly almost said. Almost.

"What?"

Koraly exhaled. "You're here, Grania."

Grania looked away suddenly. Hiding tears, Koraly knew. Trying to push on to business. "Yes, but...Koraly, I can't help you. Our enemies are different, our goals are different."

"But we're ...you're my..."

"You can't stay here, Koraly. All you could make of yourself is a thief or a prostitute."

"How-" Koraly frowned. _How have _you_ been supporting yourself? _She looked suddenly down at her hands.

"Now," Grania said after a long breath. "What _are_ your goals, Koraly?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Revenge is out of the question, against Icasia or Waldron. Frankly...I just want to escape. I want to be somewhere safe. I want to be somewhere where the name Koraly Lebanon isn't heard, and if it were...wouldn't be recognized."

"Do you have a slave tattoo?"

"Yes," Koraly hissed.

"Hm. Icasia's men undoubtedly know it. That will make escape from the Slums more... interesting. Beyond that-" Grania sighed. "I don't think you'll be able to live outside of Harmonian territory. They check everyone who crosses the border for a tattoo."

Koraly nodded. "Of course, the greedy bastards." With a painful effort, she let go of her dream of being free of the Empire's hand.

"Do you want to return to Sanady?"

"No!" She almost said, _Never_.

"Very wise. So..." Then she gave Koraly an odd look.

"What?" Koraly asked apprehensively.

"How strong are you?"

Koraly listened to the crickets chirping. "You mean turning the pages of a book?"

"When you used to horse-back ride, were you good at it?"

Koraly shrugged. "Yeah."

"Hm. Then, how brave are you?"

Koraly gave her a silent, long-suffering reply.

"Well," Grania answered brusquely, "you'll have to be, whatever we try."

"What are you planning?"

"Have you heard of Harmonia's Southern Frontier Defense Force?"

Koraly started laughing, very unpleasantly.

"Koraly-"

"A mercenary?"

"Koraly-"

"Trade one type of prostitution for another?"

"Well, Koraly, what more can I offer? It's as far away from Crystal Valley as I can get you without dropping you directly into the Grasslands or Matilda. As for your identity, that's one thing no one needs to know among mercenaries."

Koraly was only a few octaves away from shouting. "You want me to train to kill people?"

"_You_ want to get out of here."

Koraly tightened her lips.

"Being a mercenary would also give you the opportunity to travel and, if at all possible, get away for good."

Koraly's heart seemed to glow at that half-formed idea, then it dimmed. "Can't I just be some potter's apprentice in some backwater village?"

"That's what you really want?"

"No, I...I want to escape. And I want to learn."

Grania snorted. "Wherever you go, you'll learn _something_."

Koraly looked dubiously at the strange rune on her right hand, the rune she'd never even used. "Do you really think I could make it as a mercenary?"

"You have a chance. In any case, getting to Caleria will get you far away."

"Won't the recruitment whatevers take down my number?"

The next long-suffering look belonged to Grania. "Yes. But Koraly, please begin thinking as I taught you to. The Harmonian government thinks Koraly Lebanon's dead. A slave girl a minor Harmonian lady was watching -if the number ever reaches her- won't pose a threat to Hikusaak."

"Not that Koraly Lebanon was ever a threat. No, she'll just be fighting to protect the vilest, greediest country in the million worlds."

"Harmonia has things worth defending."

Koraly lay down. "Being a mercenary is going to kill me. I'm not a fighter."

Grania mixed wryness, snideness and fondness all together. "Aren't you? You've been a courtier and governess too long. I think it's time you surprise yourself."

"I think it's time you let me fall back to sleep."

XXX

"Has the pain stopped?"

"Eh -marginally."

"Enough to try thinking some more today?"

"When was the last time I thought?"

"Two weeks ago."

Koraly slowly pushed herself off her pillow into a sitting position. Immediately, she began unwinding her bandage.

"Splitting headache?" Grania asked.

"More like something's chipping away at my brain from the inside out. Not splitting, no. Hello, Armant." She'd just noticed that Armant, the man who'd carried her off in the Slums, and the man Grania seemed closest to now, was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to her. "I don't want to think about why you're here, but get on."

The gruff man smiled slightly. "I see Grania's told you I was once in the Defense Force."

"Tips?"

"Arrive with a weapon."

"But-"

"Don't worry," Grania put in.

"I can't use a-"

"They teach newbies," Armant broke back in. "That's where I got my first training a few years back." Koraly tried not to wonder how much younger Armant was than Grania. "There's a guy there, Salju. He'll polish you in sweat, but you'll learn."

Koraly's look was bleak. "Who pays?"

"They pay, actually. But they won't feed you, so you'll need potch."

"I-"

"Don't worry," Grania put in.

"So onto weapons then," Armant said briskly. "Any experience at all?"

"I'm mad stuff with a butter knife."

"No muscle?"

"None."

"You'll have a bit once you get to Caleria, but...hm. You'll want something nice and light, at least for now. Something to brandish at highwaymen."

Koraly started her unpleasant laugh again. "Koraly-" Grania warned.

"I'll teach you a feint or two." Armant shrugged. That was the best he could leave it at. _They can't support me much longer_. Guilt stabbed her. _I have to get going_ somewhere. "There's always beginner's luck." Armant climbed to his feet. "I'll go find you a foil or something like."

XXX

"It's like a huge butter knife."

"Pretty much, yeah." Armant smiled, very pleased. "Lightweight, takes no skill to swing. Don't expect to land a blow though. Now, hold it like this-"

XXX

"I can't believe we're doing it like this."

"Hey..." Armant's voice trailed off helplessly. "Put a girl in big enough clothes, she'll look like a guy."

"Keep your hair under your hood," Grania advised.

"I could cut it," Armant offered, yet again.

"No. I _like_ my long hair." _And everything else about me seems to changing, so do you mind?_

Grania took a step back for a last look at Koraly Lebanon Renweld. A floppy, slack-brimmed hat hid most of her face, pretty much only the fine chin and nerves-thin lips showing. A voluminous woolen tunic hid her figure, her outsized brown trousers spilled over the tops of her seaboots. A wide belt held the glorified butter knife to her hip.

"Remember," Grania said, speaking slowly so her voice wouldn't shake, "hide your accent. Do a sort of Matilda drawl."

"Gaht it."

"No. Less Rockaxe. More bumpkin."

"Gawdit."

"And remember -act like a_ man_."

Koraly removed her left hand from her hip, uncocked her pelvis and slouched.

"Will she pass?" Grania asked Armant, a bit worriedly.

Armant breezed that aside. "The guards know me. And Jake and I will be doing all the talking."

"Well then, I don't see why we should wait any longer."

Koraly lifted the brim of her hat.

"What?" Grania asked sharply.

"I..." _I wanted to see if you were crying._ "I wanted..." _Oh no, now I'm the one crying._

"Koraly-" Grania whispered. She hugged Koraly, but her voice was stern. "Get going."

"We aren't -I'll never-"

"-See me again, I know. You reach this moment with every person you meet, Koraly," she pulled back to look into Koraly's eyes, "whether you realize it or not."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Koraly whispered.

Grania's smile was rueful. "I never did, really. All I try to do is make you do well." She held Koraly close again. "But...I know you love me."

"I - yes - I have...I-"

"You have to go. I know." She released Koraly abruptly. "Go."

Koraly wanted more time to savor the moment, to preserve it in her memory, but her nerves were goading her to leave. She chose to push on, complete her task and ready herself for the next.

So she turned and walked out the door.

She had gone.

XXX

Koraly let herself rest for the second time that morning. She veered off the South Highway to a conveniently situated boulder and watched the other wayfarers stalk or ride past. Her hand dropped uneasily to her potch-pouch. Grania had given her a thousand potch, far more than she likely could spare, but Koraly was reluctant to use it. In the last five days she'd bought food along the way (big-smiled merchants opened shops all along the highway where everything was overpriced). Originally, she'd thought she would just sleep in the fields. A few nervous glances at other travelers had jettisoned that plan, so on nights when she couldn't find some benign looking caravan to pretend to belong to, she slept at the exorbitant inns. At this rate however, she'd have to stop.

After walking for a bit longer, she saw that the highway approached a narrow river where flocks of travelers were busy drinking, washing clothes and bathing stark naked. Koraly turned and walked north along the riverbank, away from the crowd until she was shielded by a copse of trees. However, she still didn't feel secure enough to undress. She drank, then hunted for some breed of berry to eat. Nothing.

_I can't bathe. Someone might see that I'm a woman._ Her own resentment told her something very clearly then. While she wasn't planning to masquerade as a man for her (how long?) stay in Caleria, she'd thought it wisest to travel as one. But without another thought, she pulled her big tunic over her head. She'd kept the under-dress she'd worn as a governess on under her tunic, a short, simple black shift that left her arms bare. She regarded her shifting reflection in the river's current, studying the shapes of her breasts and hips. _I'm not going to do this as a man. I'm a woman, and I don't want to be vulnerable just because of that._

Then she snorted. _I'm going to die._

She sat up, tied the sleeves of the tunic around her shoulders so it made the world's ugliest cape, re-belted her butter knife to her hip, and strode on south, keeping a weather eye out for free forest food.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

XXX

She saw the mountain pass a day or so before she actually reached it. She reined Cast-Off to a halt and slumped a bit forward over the horse's neck, getting horse-must up her nose and an unrelaxing sense of vertigo. Then she pulled back upright, letting the blood rush through her head.

Ten potch shifted in the pouch against her leg; all of the rest had been sparingly spent on food and rest over three weeks. The dappled, dark brown mare she'd found roaming aimlessly. The sores on her stomach told Koraly she'd been recently owned. She hadn't relished the idea of riding without saddle or bridle, and until she became really determined to do it, the horse had ignored her. Eventually she, her muscles, and the horse had learned to cope. A few days ago, she'd found an old rope tied to the gate of an abandoned farm. There was her bridle. Cast-Off was good enough to take care of her own feed and had stayed put when Koraly collapsed at night.

And now there was this pass and further in, ostensibly, her future. Koraly glanced dubiously at her mighty sword Butter Knife. _They're going to laugh me out._ A firmer side of her struggled to assert itself:_ Come now, you can't be the most pathetic thing that's come their way._ The other side drawled, _Can't I?_

She clapped Cast-Off's sides with her heels. The mare ambled forward. After a few steps, she lifted her ears up and forward; she could tell there was a stable ahead.

XXX

First she heard Caleria, the muted bustle of hundreds of people sharing the same narrow parameters. Then she encountered the smell. Then, as the slopes grew higher and more rugged on either side, she found that she was traveling on an avenue of coarse, gritty gold sand, sunlight making it sparkle like rhinestones. _Is this some fairytale road that the heroine follows to find her destiny? Or am I just exhausted?_

It was midday when she came in sight of the north wall, looking like nothing more than an enormous adobe brick with crenelations and a gate. Dark figures paced along the top. There were some painted red geometric designs as well as a line of green script above the gate. After a moment of squinting, she saw that it read _Hikusaak sets his eyes to the South._

_The Harmonians must have written that after they defeated the Calerian lands and built the fortress. This is as far as I can get while still being under Hikusaak._

The guard didn't halt her until she was almost directly under the gate-arch. She'd been looking for the crisp blue and white uniform of an Imperial Infantryman. What she got was a middle-aged man in dirty leather armor. "What's your business in Caleria?"

At least, Koraly had to guess he was a guard. He was brandishing a spear at her. "I'm here to-" _Enroll? Is that the correct term? Damn, I'm so citified._ "I'm here to join the HFDFS."

The guard stared at her. "Repeat that."

"I'm here to join the ...SFFDF?"

He smiled patronizingly. "You're here to join the SFDF?"

"Yes," Koraly said quickly.

"The _S_outhern _F_rontier _D_efense _F_orce?"

_"Yes."_

The guard bowed superciliously. "This way, milady. You'll find the cat houses on Scarlet Street."

Koraly barely restrained the impulse to ram her toe up his nose as she rode past._ Cat house indeed!_

That is...if cat house meant what she thought it did.

_I'm dead walking._

Koraly rode under the shadowy, almost opaquely black gate and into the bright glare of the fortress. Tawny rectangular buildings hulked on every corner, separated by twisting avenues cluttered with merchant stalls and awnings; the only clear ground was the occasional courtyard, full of figures pummeling each other with long, sharp weapons. People shouted at the top of their lungs, hawking goods, demanding their way through the crowds, hooting to friends or clamoring for alms. Not too far away, six kids were churning away with six hurdy-gurdies. The sky was so intensely blue, it seemed to hang too low, like the dome of a pretty blue tent that was about to collapse on all of them.

Koraly muscled Cast-Off forward, insisting that the horse just shoulder their way through the crowd while Koraly tried to make out the twisting writing that adorned most of the buildings. Armant had told her to go to the "Citadel" to sign up.

She let the crowd push her along, past booths and smoking fires of -if she heard correctly- Snake Frog Liver. Realization that she had come up behind the Citadel came very suddenly when Cast-Off's shoulder hit its rear wall. She quickly ducked through the gate and came into a dusty, relatively quiet compound. Rugged, dirty looking men with large swords conferred in small groups. After staring at the Citadel's back doors for several moments, Koraly reined to the right and came around the side of the building, hoping some helpful clues on how to proceed would show up.

"Hey, tula," said one of the mercenaries.

Koraly's shoulders hunched. She recognized "tula" as a Harmonian word for "baby girl", and she immediately resented the slang.

"Hey, tula!" the guy said louder. "You looking for someone?"

"You wanna get recruited?"

"You like fighting?"

_Okay, there's the front door. That_ must _be the front door. Just...dismount._ She dismounted, slung Cast-Off's rope around the hitching-post. She looked warily to either side. The mercenaries had stayed put, even if they were still eyeballing her. Some dark-skinned Calerian merchants watched her curiously. She saw a Bujutsu Ring and a stable at the far end of the compound. Directly opposite was another gate that led still further into the city.

A small, brown, hunch-shouldered kobold scurried up to her. "Stabling, miss?"

"Uh..."_ Yes. I'm going to stay here._ "Please." She handed the rope-end over.

"Name?"

"Uh?"

The kobold kept his voice absolutely respectful. "The horse's name, miss?"

"Cast-Off." She grinned embarrassedly.

The kobold grinned back. "I like it."

Koraly plunged. "Is this where the new recruits sign up?"

The kobold raised his shaggy terrier-ears. "You aiming to be a merc?"

"Trying."

"Ah. Yeah, go in there. Turn left. Talk to Drudi."

"Thanks so much. Uh-" She didn't really want to, but he deserved it. "Here." She tossed him a potch.

The kobold's eyes shone. "Thank you, miss!" He bowed and led Cast-Off away, tail wagging.

_He's a slave, _Koraly thought glumly._ I'll be lucky if a stranger treats me half so well._

It was dark inside. She stood in the doorway a moment, blinking her eyes into submission, then strode forward down the dusty, tan corridor, past a front desk with a snoring merc sprawled across the counter, turned left and almost walked right into the recruitment desk.

"Heh?" A voice asked sharply. Working patiently through the darkness, Koraly made out a squat, blunt, bald figure behind the desk. "What you want?"

"I'm here to...enlist." _Ah! Found the right word!_

He squinted at her. "You've got no training."

That's what she got for showing off her puny white arms. "I heard Master Salju is willing to train newbies."

"Yeah." Drudi fumbled for a quill. "Okay. I'll sign you in." Then he monotoned, "Harmonia will supply you with a room at the barracks and training so long as you are employed under the Harmonian Southern Frontier Defense Force, if you are wounded, you may go to the hospital, where they will treat you free of charge, you are responsible for outfitting, equipping and feeding yourself, you can work in a mercenary unit or as a free-agent, in either case, you must contract a job under the SFDF and settle the terms of your pay for each individual job, you have a tolerance period of a month, if after a month you have not been employed and/or paid your dues to the Citadel, you will be removed from employment, you will receive money from the Citadel only if it is deemed necessary for the completion of your orders so never ask for advances or loans, the Citadel is no way obligated to rectify any personal damages to yourself or your possessions, any questions?"

"Eh...no."

"Name?"

She thought quickly. "Kora."

"Lip."

Kora sighed, then lifted her upper lip. Drudi leaned offensively close to read the number, then copied it into his ledger. And monotoned: "As a slave, you are forbidden to leave Caleria without the supervision of a First Class Harmonian citizen, a commanding officer, or the permission of the Citadel. You are now the property of the Citadel and should consider it your master. You will have to receive its permission to authorize any jobs or contracts. Do you agree to these terms?"

Kora pressed her lips together to keep from snarling "I do."

Drudi opened a drawer and fished out a key. "To your room. You have a month."

"Thanks," Kora gritted. "Where can I find Salju?"

"He'll be at the Bujutsu Center."

XXX

Kora was ravenously hungry. Owning nothing but the clothes on her back (and unsure as to whether or not she'd have to pay for a bath), she had no reason to go to her room, so she stalked uneasily out into the sunlight. She eyed the Bujutsu Ring just as her stomach thundered for food. _I'm in no condition to begin training today. Where can I get some food?_ She glanced around. Not in this compound. She strode to the other gate.

It was quieter in this half of the city, given less over to jewelry and sweetmeat stalls than to shops that would be useful to the garrison. She could, however, smell food coming from the tavern at the city's south gate.

_I don't have enough money to feed myself for a week, let alone a month._ She thought about the cat houses for just a moment, mentally murdered herself, then walked hesitantly towards the bar.

She stepped inside. Darkness. Heat. Clamor. The saliva-inducing scent of _food_. Kora groaned slightly.

"You all right, tula?" a voice said at her elbow.

Kora jerked away.

"Whoa! You just look like you're about to pass out. You're pale as a lily...if I do say so myself."

"Well, you've said it," Kora said quickly. "Leave me alone."

"No potch, huh? C'mon pretty girl, let me buy you lunch."

"No thanks." Kora tried to move past the man, an older guy with shoulder-length black hair. He was wearing some daft assortment of beads and amulets over a long maroon shirt and equally maroon trousers.

The man blew through his nose. "You've been trying to shove me aside for the last minute or so. Unsuccessfully. You're about to drop, so let me buy you a liver or something."

"Don't expect anything in return."

"We'll see," he answered easily. He took her elbow and conducted her towards the bar counter. "My name's Joker."

"That's a major turn-off."

"Well, my old name didn't do much for me either."

"Neither does maroon."

"Yow! I am feeding you, even though you think I'll try something later. Hey! Get me a Snake Frog Liver and a beer!"

Kora slid onto a stool. Joker perched next to her. "You had to order me_ that_?"

"Snake Frog Liver's _my_ favorite."

"Can I have water instead?"

"No way. No one drinks the water here."

"My luck." The steaming plate dropped down in front of her. Kora didn't even take the time to stare dubiously, she dug right in. It was slimy and wriggled a bit on the way down, but she wasn't in a state to care.

Joker leaned an elbow companionably on the counter. "What's your name?"

"Kora."

"So, Kora, you here to join the garrison, or just have fun?"

"Garrison," she answered between mouthfuls.

"Ah." He drew the word out with interest. "You got some moves with that flatiron of yours?"

"It's a _butter knife_," Kora emphasized. Then, "I hope to move on to greater things."

"How old are you, tula?"

She stopped chewing so she could eye him distrustfully. "Nineteen."

"Hey!" he said eagerly. "You aren't too old for me."

"What the hell? You've got to be, what... thirty?"

"Yeah. I like them young."

"Keep your beer."

He sighed resignedly and took a gulp of booze. "I'll have you know I grow on people."

"You're developing a gut."

He whistled. "You aren't one of those sweet, bashful types, are you? Hey -! You with a unit yet?"

Again she looked warily up from her plate. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm a free agent, but I want to get a unit together. How about it? Want to call me Captain?"

Kora was conflicted for a moment. Regardless of Joker himself, having a commander would open her to employment her first day in. On a more realistic note, she still had no training. "No, thanks," she said coldly. "At least-" she amended, trying to keep any desperation out of her voice, "not right now. I mean -keep me in mind -er...later, maybe."

He chuckled. "Hah. You _will_ be indebted to me." He glanced at her empty plate. "You like?"

She shrugged.

"Want me to show you around?"

She glared.

Joker smiled. "You have the cutest frown."

"No, thanks."

"Hey, I promise I won't try anything."

"Yeah. No."

He shrugged. "All right. It was worth a shot, pretty girl."


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: This is in response to everyone who wondered where the heck Geddoe is. I am sorry. I seriously would have loved to put him in the story right now because he is my favorite character, but if you run an investigation with Kidd, you'll find out he's only been associated with the Defense Force for "seven or eight years". At present, we're still twelve years before the events of the game, so Geddoe isn't in Caleria yet. I know, it's such a pain._

_As to why Joker wants to start a unit, the simple answer is that it would get him more money. However, as you can see in the game, he's not really the leader type, so all his efforts in that direction are going to fail._

11

XXX

Kora hovered near the Bujutsu ring, watching a half-naked, dark-skinned man throw a swordsman to the ground accompanied by an almost tangible _crunch_ sound. Kora leaned against the fence and crossed her legs to keep them from quivering. Butter Knife slid against her thigh. The swordsman was reassembling himself while staggering to his feet. Just as he was lifting his head to get a clear view of the ring, the dark man swung one heel up and sent him spinning from the chin downward. After the dust settled, the swordsman sat up on his elbows and puffed, "Why'd you wait for me to get back up?"

"My leg needed a stretch," the dark man replied cheerfully through his thick Calerian accent.

"Is my -huff- I think I've had enough."

"I think you have too. Same time tomorrow?"

"Ow!" The swordsman took a moment to straighten his back. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess." He hobbled past Kora, not giving her a glance as he made his way back to the barracks.

Kora turned at the sound of a low whistle. It was the dark man, hands on hips, face split in a grin full of crooked teeth surround by a short black beard. His eyes were clear, Harmonian blue. "Is the pretty lady here to learn how to split skulls with her sword?"

_Last time I touched my face, I think I had about twenty pimples on my left cheek alone._ "Salju?"

"She is well-informed."

"Yes. I'm here to learn how to fight."

He crossed his arms over his heavily-muscled chest. "How long you got?" Kora raised her eyebrows. He clarified, "How long you got before you run out of money to feed yourself?"

Kora snorted. "If I feed myself once a day, or every other day...'bout a week."

"Ah. So you must be battle-worthy in a week." He chuckled. "This is going to be fun." Then after a few more moments of chuckling and gazing at her fondly, he beckoned. "Come on then. Into the ring."

Kora entered the ring. Slowly. Not too slowly though.

"You got a name?"

"Kora."

"Good. Easy to shout. Be better if it had only one beat though. Draw that thing of yours."

Kora drew. It wasn't as if Butter Knife had a sheath or anything.

"Okay, cross-draw. You can do that. Give me a guard position."

Slowly, Kora shifted into a semi-crouch, right foot forward, Butter Knife angled slantwise in front of her.

Salju stared at it for a moment. "...Okay. Now strike."

"What?"

"Just strike. I'm not gonna move. Just aim for my left pinky and tap it a bit."

Kora drew her sword arm back and low, then swung gently up at Salju's hand. She abruptly stiffened her wrist and fingers, amazed at Butter Knife's sudden heaviness as air shifted over and under its length. Eventually she succeeded in slightly grazing his thumb.

Salju gave her a deathly blank look. Then suddenly, it melted into smarmy benevolence.

"It's heavy," Kora protested. "I hit your hand at least."

"I told you to hit my pinky," he answered, still with that gooey smile.

"Hand or pinky, it's not a cosmic difference."

"So the sword's too heavy for you to control the point?"

"Yeah."

He shifted to a more serious stance. "Will that be a problem?"

Kora shrugged. "You slash and thunk with a sword, right?"

Salju smiled again. "I just hope you have a little voice in your head telling you how dumb you sounded there. Now then-" He put his arm around Kora's shoulders and swung her around to face the far end of the ring. "See that? The string hanging from that tree there? It has a little ball tied to the end. I want you to go over there and hit that little ball with the point of your sword fifty times."

"What?"

"In a row."

"-What?"

"Until you can do fifty in a row, I don't want to see you again."

"_What_?"

"If you can't control your sword-point in each and _every_ thrust, you have no business holding the sword. Off you go then. You have a week." And he gave Kora a little push in the ball's direction before turning to greet another mercenary that was hanging out at the gate.

One glance informed Kora that that was it for now. She eyed the tree. From this distance, she couldn't even see a ball. She half-believed there wasn't one, Salju was just toying with the new girl like every man in Caleria did.

There was a ball. It was about the size of a cherry tomato. A very early cherry tomato or maybe the god of all crabapples, albeit one riddled with hundreds of little sword nicks. Kora stood in the tree's whispering shade, holding the ball in her palm and listening to the sound of Salju tenderizing his new student on the far side of the ring.

She had a week to be battle-worthy. She was willing to bet there was a lot more to learn beyond point control.

She released the ball. It jounced on the end of its string, whirring and swinging slower and slower. With her other hand, she drew weapon. She slid her stance into the position Armant had taught her and which Salju had just barely accepted.

Hesitantly, she extended her butter knife and tapped the ball with the sharp end. _One._ It jerked, swinging, and came back. She missed on_ Two._

_Okay, patience. You're learning the basics, they'll be the hardest to get used to._ She tapped the ball, waited for it to swing back. _One._ Then she missed.

She cleared her throat, tapped the ball forward. _One._ It swung back. _Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. _She tapped too early and the ball swung lazily past her point.

_We're doing better, come on_. She batted the ball. _One_. The ball swung wide, and she was already striking where it should've gone.

With considerable more wrist energy, she clouted the ball. _One!_ It went far back, swung in and whacked her in the eye. Kora shrieked as softly as she could while still maintaining the correct emphasis.

She watched the ball swing jauntily east to west.

_One week._

Her stomach growled, rattling her entire torso.

_Damn._

She closed her eyes, mustering the feebleness to give up. Her stomach was too loud though.

"_When stabbing,_ _direct the sword with your fingers," _Armant had said_. "Not from the wrist." Right. The magic words that are going to make this all easy._

She hoisted Butter Knife into a horizontal position. Even that was enough to make her swordarm twitch after a few moments. Deliberately, she tightened her fingers around the hilt, shifting them slightly to turn the sword. Butter Knife turned so quickly she dropped it. While she was bent over picking it up, the ball rapped her shoulder.

She and the sword were up again. _Kora, you only have a week!_ She tapped. _One. _She missed on _Two_. She tapped. _One_. She missed on _Two_.

XXX

"So, Kora, how're we doing?" Salju cheerfully asked an hour and a half later, as his former student lumbered out of the Bujutsu ring.

Kora puffed. "Eh."

"Got to fifty?"

"I can do ten pretty consistently."

"Arms hurt?"

"Hell."

"Good, you're getting muscle."

"How long does it normally take a novice to get to fifty?"

"About two weeks, give or take."

Kora rounded on him, eyes blazing.

Salju shrugged. "It's the truth. There's not much I can teach you in a week."

"Then what-"

"That's what I'm asking you. I'll train you as long as you're here but..."

_But I have no money. No way to get money_, Kora repeated as she sat in her bath later that day. She rubbed her sore muscles emphatically, feeling red-hot pain stream through her arms.

Later, as she meandered near the south gate, she tried not to listen to her eloquent innards.

"Hey there."

Kora's shoulders jerked into something close to a hunch, but she kept her tone flat and casual. "Hey."

"Want to join me for dinner?"

She tightened the muscles in her stomach, stifling any noise. "Not interested."

Joker shook his head. "You take nothing at face value."

"Well, you're a little too interested in me."

"Do you_ know_ what the ratio of men to women in the Defense Force is? Abysmally low, Kora."

"And you're way too interested in feeding me."

"Well, I could hear your stomach from twenty feet away."

"Stop listening to my innards, all right?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, gave her a narrow-eyed look. "How long do you think you're going to last, Kora?"

She darted a quick look at him, then away. "As long as I need to."

"Ffff. You don't have a chance if you don't accept people's help. You aren't going to last on your own."

"Well," Kora retorted, "if I can't last on my own I don't think I'm worth lasting!" It hadn't sounded so jumbled in her head, at least.

Joker stared at her a long moment. Then he jerked his thumb towards the tavern. "Want me to buy you dinner?"

"No...but since you won't leave..."

"That's right," he said briskly, walking towards the tavern. "I won't leave until you're good and fed. So," he said, as soon as they were once again seated at the counter, "how you doing your first day?"

Kora rested her chin in her hand and gave him a blank look.

"Well, you did come here absolutely green."

Kora lazily arched her eyebrows. "No one to blame but myself, huh?"

Joker took a moment before answering. "Given the tone of voice I just heard, let's just say you're an unfortunate victim of circumstance."

Another Snake Frog Liver was placed in front of her. "Is this all you order here?"

"Occasionally I get the godurky."

"The what?"

"It's a goat stuffed with turkey stuffed with duck. Stuffed with stuffing. You want that next time?"

"This is good," Kora said quickly, taking a bite.

"Ha!"

Kora's eyes swiveled suspiciously. "What?"

"You just admitted there would be a next time."

"I _didn't,_ you old lech!"

"I'm not a lech. I am an altruist." He watched her eat with satisfaction, then started chomping on his own Snake Frog Liver. "So," he said between mouthfuls, "still interested in me showing you around Caleria?"

"I never was."

"That's all right, I can show you anyway."

"All I need to know is where the gates going out are."

"Ah," he said slowly. He took another bite, eyeing her slantwise. "A lot of people need to know that."

They finished the meal in silence, a fairly comfortable silence Kora belatedly realized. "Thanks," she said brusquely, feeling that she sounded like an ingrate.

"No problem," Joker said, dropping some potch onto the counter. "As soon as you get your act together, I'd suggest working freelance except..." He shot a quick look at her.

"What?"

"To be frank, female freelance mercs don't get a lot of work. It's just the way it is. You'd be better off in a unit."

Kora pressed her lips together, unwilling to admit that she couldn't fight -though she was fairly sure he'd figured that out. She summoned her actress' assurance. "Well, I'll get by. Don't worry."

"Same time tomorrow?"

Kora made a fist. "A woman doesn't need training to know how to flatten a pervert's face."

"Altruist."

"Flattening an altruist's face will be just as easy."

He nodded admiringly. "I hope you last."

XXX

It didn't look as though she would, two days later. She still couldn't hit that ball beyond ten, and the last evening she'd refused Joker's altruism and bought her own dinner (a corn-based spoonbread, the cheapest thing she could find; it had reminded her of reheated vomit.) On the morning of her fifth day in Caleria, she was sitting on the bottom step of one of the bare adobe stairways that led to shops' higher levels, elbows resting on knees, chin in hands, hopelessness in her eyes.

"Hey there," a light, cheery voice said.

Kora looked up and was assailed by the sight of large brown eyes. Below them was the nicest smile she'd ever seen. "Hey," Kora said dully.

The newcomer crouched down on her heels, a girl Kora's age with short, shaggily cut brown hair held back by a white, long-tailed bandanna. She had an orange dojo tunic and wore short, close-fitting breeches. Almost immediately, Kora's eyes dropped to her lower legs, which sported thick, light-blue wraps. Then Kora noticed her feet. No shoes, or, at least, no normal shoes; she seemed to be wearing the soles on the tops of her feet, nothing on the bottom. Kora's mind sluggishly remembered that she'd seen this girl earlier today, hanging around the taverns, then the Citadel, then the blacksmith, asking questions everywhere she went.

She was still at it. "You a mercenary here?"

"Sort of."

Her smile broadened a bit. "Mercenaries are great, in my opinion. Never met one I didn't like."

Kora was a little reluctant to smile back, but she tried to keep her voice pleasant. "That's good for me."

"Why so down?"

"Oh." Kora sighed heavily and shrugged, feeling she just didn't have the energy to go into it. The girl raised her expressive eyebrows, her cheer replaced by concern. Kora didn't like pity (and this girl was practically oozing it), but she was tired of being a stoic, assured actress. "I can't find work. I'm just starting out, and I can't even fight yet and...well, I can't feed myself, so..." _So you can just go away, all right?_

"That's really horrible."

Kora gave an ugly laugh. "You think so?"

"Where're you from?"

"North."

The girl's eyes lit. "Really? Where north?"

"Oh..."

"Around Crystal Valley?"

"I know the way to Crystal Valley," Kora said slowly.

The girl popped to her feet and bounced. "This is great!"

"It is?" Kora asked, skeptical and bewildered all at once.

"Yes!" She crouched down again, grasping Kora's knees in a gesture of absolute earnestness. "My friends and I are headed for Crystal Valley, and I'd come here just so _I could find a guide_!"

Pity. Her first job, and she was going to get it not because she was skilled but because she looked pathetic.

At the same time-

Kora struggled to keep the hope out of her eyes. "Are you saying you'll -hire me?"

"Yes!"

"Even though I can't fight?"

She snorted. "You'll learn." Then she laughed. "You'll learn fast. And you'll have great teachers."

Kora couldn't help it; excitement was bubbling in her like a pot of boiling water. "Are you serious?" she asked, almost shrieking.

"Yes!" the strange girl shrieked happily back.

"What's your name?" the girl asked, when they'd calmed down a bit.

"Kora."

"Pretty. My name's Wakaba."

Kora grimaced. "I'll try not to call you Wacky for short."

She breezed that aside. "You'll be the first who tried. So what're your rates?"

"I have no clue. Ah..." She paged back through her memory, trying to find something useful. "Well, how far are you planning to go?"

"Town called Tareve."

"That's pretty close to Crystal Valley. That journey took me about two and half weeks."

She nodded. "That's not bad."

"How about forty potch a day?"

"All right. Should we spit on our hands and shake?"

"No."

"Okay, that's good too."

"Oh!" Kora looked down, then up, forcing herself to meet Wakaba's eyes steadily. "I have to tell you: I'm a slave. I have to get permission from the Citadel before I take on this job."

Wakaba's eyes had rounded slightly at her first statement -then winced. Kora grimaced; it looked like pity, altruism, whatever, were just things she'd have to deal with for now. Wakaba looked worried. "Do you think they won't let you go?"

"They probably will."

"Okay then. So...should we talk to them now?"

Kora took a deep breath. "I guess we should."


	12. Chapter 12

12

XXX

"I've never walked out of these gates before," Kora commented as they passed under Caleria's south gate. _Wouldn't it be nice if I never had to again?_

"How long you been here?"

"Four days."

"That explains it."

Kora gave Wakaba her first suspicious glance. "Explains what?"

"Your lack of luggage."

"I own nothing but these clothes."

Wakaba winked. "I have some spares back at the camp. Don't worry."

Kora felt humble. "You don't have to..."

"I do a lot of things I don't have to," Wakaba replied breezily. "Like floss."

Kora studied the terrain south of Caleria. East lay the Knightdom of Matilda, or, in other terminology, the northeast frontier of the Republic of Dunan. Kora couldn't see anything but bare, dry mountains rising all around.

Wakaba turned almost immediately west on a well-worn road that ran up one such mountain. She took it at a brisk walk; Kora found herself trudging and puffing several strides behind. Wakaba frowned quizzically. "You really made it from Crystal Valley on your own?"

"Ye-hes."

"Sure you didn't dream it?"

"I hope I'm dreaming now -so I can push you off this mountain and not feel guilty twenty years in the future -puff."

"Don't worry. Our camp isn't far."

It was only about an hour away. Luckily for Kora, they hit fairly level ground after a quarter hour had passed. Even so, the sun beat down on them like a hammer, and the only coolness Kora felt were the sweat beads crossing a nervy place in her spine.

Wakaba sniffed the air like a hound. "Smell that?"

Kora sniffed. She smelled sage brush, which the trail was cluttered with, and dust up her nose, and all she heard was the wind whispering through something. Maybe it was the clouds; they seemed close enough.

"Campfire," Wakaba clarified. "Dead ahead." She began walking eagerly. "They've been lazing around all morning while _I_ was up before dawn on my way to Caleria. It's always the woman who gets things done."

They rounded some boulders, shoved away the brush, and suddenly Kora did smell the fire. In a moment, she saw it. And she looked at it for a moment. Maybe less.

What she was looking at was the man lying in front of it, thick, dusty-booted ankles crossed, one arm under his shaggy black head, with what looked like the claw of a troll dragon in his teeth.

"'Ey Wakaba," he said, not opening his eyes.

"I got us a guide," Wakaba chirped.

The man opened a pair of dark brown eyes. He craned his neck around to get a good look at Kora. "'Ey."

Wakaba's hands went to her hips. "Don't mind Viktor. He always turns into a five-toed giant sloth when he's digesting one of his undercooked meals _from which he didn't even save us a scrap._"

Viktor rolled into a sitting position then rolled to his feet, somehow making it all one movement; it was like watching a landscape turn into a mountain. "Hey," he said aggreivedly, "you never said you'd be back this early." Despite the tone, he didn't seem too put out.

He was an enormous man, Kora suddenly realized, a pile of muscles rising well above even her head and topped by a round, wide-mouthed, button-nosed, high-cheekboned face. His clothing looked sturdy and worn, a rough tunic over brown breeches and boots. A long thick sword hung angled from his left thigh. He put a hand on each hip and strode over to the girls, raking his eyes up and down Kora. "You the guide?"

"Yes," she said, reverting -she knew not exactly why- to her governess voice.

He presented a very large, calloused palm. "I'm Viktor."

Kora put her hand in his. His hand easily hid hers in its grip. "I'm Kora."

She tried not to wince as he shook her hand and pain skittered up her arm into her shoulder. "Good to meet you." He dropped her hand and rounded on Wakaba. "You settled on fair rates?"

"Yeah, yeah, her rates are good. She says it'll take two and half weeks, forty potch a day."

Kora braced, afraid he would start roaring that it was too expensive and bash her over the head with that fist, but all he did was nod his head. "That's good. Anyway..." He yawned. "I left some dragon there...you can scrounge up some scraps..."

"He brought down a troll dragon?" Kora mumbled to Wakaba as they moved towards the fire.

"_We_ did yesterday. And it was only a juvenile. Viktor-" She snorted cheerfully. "He could bring down the dragon himself, but even_ he_ couldn't eat it all in one morning." They knelt down next to the fire. Using a rag placed nearby just for this purpose, Wakaba picked up the cooking pot and glanced at the contents. "Good. I don't see any scales." She withdrew a short dagger and speared out a long rag of blue dragon flesh. Some watery gravy dripped down from it. "This make you go 'mmm_-mmm_'?"

"No."

"Just the same." She passed it to Kora. "Here, you can use this dagger to eat with. I got another one."

They spent the first few minutes just blowing on the meat. Wakaba glanced sidelong at Viktor as, on the other side of the fire, he began to snore. "Isn't he something?"

"Something. Yes...something."

Wakaba smiled. "You should see him with his shirt off." Kora arched her eyebrows dubiously. Wakaba snickered. "Even _you'll_ drool then, Kor."

"How much muscle does he have between the ears?" Kora took a tentative bite of dragon, then swallowed it quickly, hoping that her tongue wouldn't register any more of its taste.

"A man doesn't need a brain," Wakaba scoffed. "Just nice big arms and a chest."

Kora started snickering herself. "Come on, how old is he?"

Wakaba's face went limp in a glum frown. "About my age over again"

Kora shook her head. "This trip should be interesting."

"Wakaba's back?" a new voice said. Kora turned around. At first, all she saw was swirling blue and a scabbard. Then she looked up at the man standing behind her, and all she saw were blue eyes.

Viktor snorted as he came awake. "Yeah, Wakaba's back." He kept his eyes closed. "And that's the guide, Kora. And we're leaving as soon as...in a bit."

"Oh," the man said. Then he moved past the girls and the campfire, his long blue cloak billowing in the breeze. The tails of his long blue bandanna waved gently.

"Don't introduce yourself," Wakaba advised.

The man looked abstractedly over his shoulder at the two of them. He was younger than Viktor, though not by much, maybe thirty or so. His ash blonde hair fell over the bandanna into those incredibly blue eyes and he offered Kora a cursory smile. "I'm Flik, it's nice to meet you." Then he turned and bent down over some haversacks heaped under some brush. "I've done some scouting," he said to Viktor's general direction. "We should have some pretty easy going, all downhill after two miles or so."

"Good, good," Viktor mumbled. Flik was busy rolling up a blanket.

Wakaba flicked her fingers in front of Kora's eyes. "Hey, Kor. Don't let your meat go cold."

Kora's face flooded with embarrassed heat; then she saw Wakaba's holding in her laughter and she laughed too. "He's not quite as old," she murmured, leaning across her meal towards Wakaba.

"Not muscley enough. Not muscely enough at all."

"What're you talking about? Look at those shoulders. Look at those eyes."

Wakaba smiled fondly at both unsuspecting men. "Of course, even if we were older, we wouldn't have much chance."

Kora raised her eyebrow. "Maybe _you_ wouldn't."

Wakaba lightly punched Kora's shoulder. "No, we_ wouldn't._" She sighed deeply. "They've both already lost their true loves to the blades of war. Their hearts lie in faraway graves"

"Oh," Kora said.

They stared.

"When," Kora asked, "has unavailability made a man less attractive?"

XXX

Wakaba whistled. "You're hot."

Kora slitted her eyes. "That's because your clothes are so _tight_-"

"That's because you're one of those freaks with _curves_-"

Still, Kora wasn't getting back into those miles-deep trousers again. Wakaba's spare clothes had included a pair of short breeches colored a (rather unfortunate) shade of bright mint green. Far out of sight of the camp, Kora had hauled them up over her hips and was staring dubiously at the vast expanse of leg.

"They're nice legs," Wakaba said encouragingly.

"Just gross and pale."

"Yeah."

Kora stood up and went flapping over the shale rock and sage brush in her seaboots. She'd kept her black undershirt which might, at this point, pass for a tunic. She took her frayed leather belt and looped it twice around her waist. She stuck Butter Knife through it with a flourish. If Butter Knife had possessed a respectable edge, Kora would've been minus a belt. Wakaba's bright eyes narrowed a trace as she noticed this, but her face was cheerful as she swung to her feet. "Ready to head back?"

"When are you going to tell them I can't fight?"

"When it comes up." She raised her eyebrows, as if asking for Kora's approval.

Kora's sigh was the only thing that muffled her next oath.

They trudged up the incline back to the camp. Viktor was up, turning what remained of the cooking broth over the fire to douse it. Flik glanced up when he saw their approach. He gave a tight smile and held up a large strip of petrified flesh for their inspection.

Wakaba goggled. "Flik -is that-"

Viktor grinned. "I did it! From now on, we feast on troll dragon jerky!"

"Woo hoo! Never tried that before!" Wakaba punched her fist into the air.

Flik and Kora looked at each other, eyes flat with resignation, just like they'd known each other for years. It was about the only time Kora got that impression with Flik.

Kora spent the next ten minutes of her life working her discarded trousers into a haversack. Eventually Viktor handed her some leather thongs and a large needle (Kora was a little surprised he traveled with sewing equipment; experience taught her otherwise) and she managed to transform the waist into a ghastly seam, dump all the equipment Viktor handed her into the seat, and tie everything up with the floppy pants legs. She carried it under her arm.

"Hey," Flik spoke up and reached for her hand. Kora dropped the haversack and willed her hand not to shake as the handsome warrior examined it. "What sort of rune is that?"

Kora stared down at the dark, sinuous shape on her hand. She hadn't really noticed it in years. "I don't know. I've never used it."

Wakaba trotted over. "Looks like a physical...People don't usually develop magical ones, do they?" Flik shrugged a shoulder and moved to kick a few more ashes onto the fire-ring.

As Kora was bending down to retrieve her luggage, Viktor commented -very nonchalantly- "Haven't you used that rune in combat before?"

Kora stared at him before speaking. His eyes looked amused, though what that would mean for her, she had no way of guessing. "Yeah. I've actually never fought before."

"But," Wakaba said, rushing to her new friend's defense, "you're always saying how you fight as well as six warriors, Viktor, so I thought it wouldn't really matter."

Viktor looked at Wakaba as if suddenly realizing she was insane. Then he glanced at Kora, and Kora saw the last thing she ever wanted to encounter, from anyone.

Pity.

But it was gone by the time he turned back to Wakaba, said, "_Seven_ warriors," and strode over until he was directly in front of Kora. "It's pretty obvious you're no fighter. You've got no arm or chest muscles."

"Yeah...Get your eyes off my chest!"

That didn't seem to register. "So the question is, you think you can learn?"

"I'd better."

"Can you stand the sight of blood?"

Kora had a swift, sudden image of the blood pouring out of Kolgrim's ear where Waldron had pierced it. She clenched the muscles in her legs to keep them steady. "I'd better."

Viktor crossed his arms over his wide chest and gave her one of the longest, steadiest looks he would ever give her. "Can you kill if you have to?"

She laughed unhappily. "I'd better."

XXX

Yeah, she sounded tough. Weak people often do. As they made their way northeast up the mountain-ridge, Kora glanced over at Wakaba, who was walking along so cheerily her hair bounced. Was that happy-faced girl ready to kill as soon as the need arose?

Kora glanced ahead. Viktor and Flik were some spaces ahead of them, talking about the Toran Liberation War, roundly denouncing the late Golden Emperor. Kora felt an edge of scorn. They were two wanderers; what did they know of the consequences of war and politics? She looked back at Wakaba. "Hey."

Wakaba blinked, resurfacing from whatever reverie she'd been immersed in. "Hm?"

"Why're you traveling with those two? Don't tell me it's just the musculature."

She snorted. "No, I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"My master."

Kora's steps faltered. "Are you a slave?" she asked in disbelief. "Why would you be _looking_ for him?"

Wakaba laughed, much louder and longer than to Kora's liking. "No, my martial-arts master, the great warrior Long Chan-Chan!" She paused helpfully, giving Kora a chance to be impressed.

"Long what what?"

"You've never heard of him?"

Kora thought of all the people she'd researched that might hypothetically still be alive. Hikusaak, the Flame Champion, Jowy Atreides Blight. No Chans.

"Well, he's a great man," Wakaba assured her.

"Ah. Why're you separated?"

"Because he ran out on me in Lakewest and left me with a three-month-long tab again, and I still need to complete my training. Word is he's in Crystal Valley."

"Word...from who?"

Wakaba tapped the side of her nose. "We have our ways."

"At least some of us do," Kora muttered, just soft enough that Wakaba couldn't hear. "And these two hulks...they're just escorting you?"

"Nah, they have some business up here. You heard of Red Alastrine?"

"...You mean the witch in the fairy tales? The one that lives in a house made from the body of a giant squid that breaks ships by day and walks the land by night?"

"No. I mean the real Alastrine. The vampire who's been spotted north of Crystal Valley."

Kora gave her a blank look.

"Hey. Vampires exist."

"And which of those two is the lost Marley heir?"

"Neither. That would be Kahn Marley. Strange guy. Always wore a big coat and yellow pants."

Kora was silenced a moment by her own startled look. "Then where's_ he_?"

"Pursuing a career in mineralogy."

Trying to ignore any sense that she was outclassed, Kora said, "Well, if neither is a Marley, I don't see how they imagine they can take out a vampire. Does either have the Zodiac Sword?"

Wakaba opened her mouth as if to say yes, stopped in confusion, and closed her mouth. "Well, no," she admitted, frowning, "neither has _that_ sword."

"Well, it's the only sword that can kill vampires."

"_Oh._ You mean the Star Dragon Sword!"

Kora waved her hand impatiently. "Don't call it that. It's a misnomer."

"Huh?"

"The sword's original name is in Sindar. It was incorrectly translated 'Star Dragon Sword' two hundred years ago."

"But...that's what the sword calls itself."

Kora stopped walking. Her voice was flat. "What?"

"It says, 'I'm the STAR DRAGON SWORD. FEAR ME.' It says it quite often."

Kora glanced over at the two men who were rapidly disappearing over the horizon.

"Viktor and Star Dragon have been together for ages," Wakaba added helpfully.

"But..." Kora said faintly. "It _is_ an inaccurate translation..."

Wakaba shrugged. "Well, Sindar's the Star Dragon's first language. I doubt it knows the difference." And she started walking again.

Kora caught up in a few minutes. She doubted she'd be talking much in the days to come.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Apologies for the long wait between updates. The quote about fire in this chapter was inspired by 1 Peter 4:12 in the Bible that I found back when every little thing I encountered somehow reminded me of _Suikoden III_. Yeah, obsession's pretty scary..._

13

For a few minutes they'd just been hearing the sound of metal dully striking itself. The foursome had tensed, and Viktor had gestured for the girls to close the distance. For a minute they stood poised on the rocky ledge, scanning the mountainside and the cloud-paved sky, listening as the metallic thuds drew no closer.

"It stopped," Flik said quietly. "I think it's-" When the wind picked up again, the slamming thud resumed. "I don't think it's alive."

"Keep your weapons out," Viktor said anyway. They continued along the ridge, so it was they who drew closer to the sound. And they saw its source fairly soon.

The skeleton of an iron gate stood on the ridge, its fence posts poised upright, at angles and scattered all along the ground, some clanging together in the breeze; the wood that had once bound the shafts must have decayed or weathered away decades ago. Across the gate's arch, written in cold, sharp iron was the word LANIENA.

After a moment, Kora translated the Harmonian word: _slaughterhouse._

Viktor sheathed his sword and gave an uncertain snort. "What's this?"

"It's an old prison compound," Kora said. They all pivoted to look at her. She shrugged uncomfortably. "I read about it. It's from the Fire Bringer War. The Flame Champion himself was imprisoned here in 417 while the Harmonians waited for the winter to pass so they could take him to Crystal Valley."

"Hm," said Viktor, leaving it at that. But he glanced at the gate with a sufficient amount of interest. After a few moments, he walked through. Kora had been hoping he'd do that. They followed.

Neglected for fifty years, Laniena had nearly fallen into the ground. Beyond the wreckage of the three iron fences were the ruins of stone bulwarks and a weed-choked compound. The barracks were half-tumbled, some of the roof caved in. Dark holes -wells, or detention chambers- were bare to the sky.

At the turn of the century Harmonia had seized the small nation of Caleria, and Seioras, a young leader in the Chisha Clan, had begun to speak out volubly against the Empire's expansion. After gaining a small but alarmingly rapid audience, he had been taken to Crystal Valley, undoubtedly either to be exterminated or conditioned. But he'd escaped with one of the Empire's most precious and hard-won treasures: the True Rune of Fire.

Seioras quickly won a following that called itself The Fire Bringer, and their early raids of Imperial caravans quickly escalated into a defensive war against Harmonia. The Empire saw the theft as a perfect excuse to conquer the Grasslands, and when rumors spread of the resurgence of the True Runes of Water and Lightning, Harmonia only doubled its attack.

In her studies, Kora had never taken either side in the war. Certainly Seioras did a very stupid thing by stealing the Rune, but she couldn't fault anyone who resisted Harmonia's hegemony. In the nearly twenty years that spanned the Fire Bringer War, Seioras had been able to unite the Grasslands against Harmonia, but after the threat passed, the Six Clans dissolved into to their many rivalries, making the Zexen Federation an enemy to them all.

Looking around at the iron echo of bondage, Kora snorted softly and summed it all up in three words:_ War is stupid. But then, so is life, right?_ (She thought she was being very wise.) Kora sauntered away from the other three towards what was left of the barracks and spent a few quiet minutes studying the rotten bunks with shackles built into the walls. She even tried to make out some the graffiti -names, tick marks, curse words, poetry, even some short stories. Many of them were dated, ranging from 413 to 421. Of course. _The Fire Bringer tried to burn this place to the ground when they recovered the Flame Champion. _Kora studied the walls a little more carefully, trying to distinguish the scorch marks from black rot.

The third to last bunk on the left had script written in a jagged, abrupt hand, as if the writer were in a hurry. _Or a fever_, Kora thought, studying the unruly writing. After a long moment or three, she finally parsed out its meaning:

_Don't be surprised at the flame that has laid hold of you, to burn you away. Did you think you would not be forced to prove yourself?_

_417 I.S. the servant of fire_

Kora reached over the bunk and touched the letters. She knew it was only her imagination that made her feel they burned her fingertips.

XXX

"Now this," Wakaba said, "is a nice town."

Viktor gave her a narrow-eyed look. "What are you talking about? Do you know what that innkeeper said to me?" Despite the fact that no one said, "Oooo, tell me!" Viktor went on. "He wanted to know if I was a hairy mountain ogre! I mean, he was serious! Me, an ogre!" Viktor banged his fist on the table and broke one of the plates.

Flik wearily squeezed the bridge of his nose. "You can't expect every town to welcome travelers."

"I didn't. But why's Wakaba so taken with this place?"

Wakaba plunked down next to Viktor. Kora glanced over at Flik, saw he hadn't even registered her presence, and sat down next to the blue warrior. "This place is right by some dragon mountains," Wakaba exulted. "I don't mean troll dragons, I mean the real fire and brimstone stuff. Can we check it out, guys?"

"No way." Flik shook his head. "We're on a tight enough schedule as it is."

Viktor opened his mouth, looked at Flik (Flik looked at Viktor too, giving him a blue stare that was flat in the middle and barbed on the edges). Viktor took a swallow of beer. "Yeah. We're too busy."

"Aw..."

"Plenty of time for dragons later, Wakaba."

Kora rested her chin on her palm. She'd been worrying about meeting some highway bandits, and now she had dragons to think about too. She glanced down at Butter Knife. _I wish we'd never met, _she thought bitterly._ I wish you'd never promised me that I'd be able to fight. You're a cad, Butter Knife, and I get to pay for it._

"Hey!" Wakaba was still chirping. "D'you guys think they'll let us join in the festival?"

Flik took a drink from his own tankard. "Only if they need an ogre."

Wakaba snorted and bumped Kora's knee with her own. "Flik's just afraid of any woman seeing him. If that happens, they'll storm him, drag him away, and he'll find himself married to seven different women before sunset." Flik closed his eyes, sighed, and left it at that.

"But that doesn't mean we can't have fun," Wakaba continued. "How about it, Viktor?"

Viktor snorted (there was much snorting going on that day). "Don't think so. I don't I want go around nannying two teenage girls around a fair."

Indignation fired both teenaged girls' eyes. "Well fine!" Wakaba declared. "We'll go on our own!"

Flik gave her sharp look. "You think you can take care of yourselves?"

Wakaba held his gaze for a full five seconds, her eyes sharpening to match his. Then she burst out laughing. "Okay, Flik -how about this? You challenge us to a duel, and if we can so much as touch you, you'll let us go to the festival?" Flik chuckled and shook his head.

Kora took what, at the time, she considered a phenomenal risk. "_You_ could escort us to the festival. For a while." She grinned. "We'll protect you from the women."

Wakaba rested her chin on her formidable fists. "We'll pummel them into putty."

"And then we'll jar up the putty," Kora went on, "and set up a booth and call it a Beauty Potion."

"And we'll sell it for 600 potch a jar and come back filthy rich," Wakaba finished.

Viktor burped. "What the hell? _I'm_ supposed to be gross, uncouth one."

"Don't underestimate teenage girls," Flik responded dryly. He sighed, yet again.

XXX

"This isn't so bad," Wakaba said, smiling brightly as a vender handed her a deep fat fried duck dumpling drizzled in some citrus-mustard sauce.

Kora noticed Flik glance over his blue shoulder. The three village girls who had been following them for the last fifteen minutes had been joined by three others. Flik's voice was just the wee-est bit tense. "How much longer before you've seen the fair?"

Wakaba spoke around an enormous mouthful. "Hard to say."

Kora thanked the vendor as he handed her a caramel apple rolled in almonds. She took a healthy bite. "I want to go see the tumblers further on."

"Yeah." Wakaba swallowed. "And I want to try some of that Kobold Pie they're selling farther up."

Flik raised his eyebrow. "Are you getting ready for a famine?"

"I am thanking the Twenty-Seven True Runes," she retorted, "that I'm not eating troll dragon jerky."

"Okay," Flik said. "We'll watch the tumblers for a bit. But it's getting dark, and you'd have to be pretty stupid to wander around a fair in bad light."

Wakaba's eyes went wide and puddle-y. "Aw, but Flik, that's when the dancing starts."

Flik gave her a level look. "You'd have to be pretty stupid to wander around a fair in bad light."

Kora huffed through her nose. "He's just worried because he won't be able to see his rabid maidens that clearly."

Flik glanced over his shoulder again. Two older women had joined the group, and several men were starting to glare at him. "Let's...keep moving, girls."

The tumblers were more enthusiastic than impressive. Kora thought idly back to her days in the Blue Court, when she'd been treated to parties featuring trained birds, sword dancers and Harmonian theater. She grimaced as one of the performers did a cartwheel right into the firepit at the center of the ring. Everyone in the crowd with a water rune started lobbing ice spells at the unfortunate man.

"Have you seen enough?" Flik asked a quarter hour later when some of the acrobats were trying to lead an reluctant blue-dyed pony into the ring.

Wakaba gazed at him haughtily over her plate of eggrolls. "Don't scoff at performers. Just think where Riou would've have been if he hadn't run into a troupe just like this one?"

Flik glanced at the at the ring. The pony had freed itself and was racketing around the ring, looking for a way out, the orange ribbons in its tail streaming behind it. After a moment, it simply hopped over the fence into the crowd. "Not quite like this one," Flik said.

XXX

"He doesn't talk much," Kora observed later, at sunset. Flik was haggling with a vendor over the price of a new belt buckle, and she and Wakaba were sitting on one of the grassy hills overlooking the fair.

"He's seen a lot. Here, want half of this sausage?"

"Sure."

Wakaba ripped it and the long bun it came with in half. "I guess...I dunno, Flik's been through a lot. Viktor too. I mean, they were both in the Liberation Army. Some of the first members, I think."

Kora raised her eyebrows. "That and the Dunan Unification War?" She almost whistled. "But they've seen so much. They -they should be writing histories, or-"

"Too busy making history. Nah." Wakaba shook her head. "If you ask them anything about it, they're usually pretty evasive. Except in a life or death situation, I guess."

"What about you? You were in the Dunan Army."

Wakaba leaned back in the grass. "Well, yeah. But I wasn't really fighting for freedom. I mean, I hate Luca Blight. Who couldn't? He was a brute. But I just started out to find my master, and I figured I could get some good training in while I was at it."

"And you've met Riou Gengaku."

"Yeah. He recruited me."

Kora leaned back on her elbows, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "What's he like? Did you-" She frowned. "Did you ever see the True Rune?"

"He's quiet," Wakaba replied readily. "Really quiet. He doesn't talk unless he has to. He's not what I'd call a scholar or a genius...But I think he's the kindest person I've ever met. And the bravest."

Kora pressed her lips together. "And the True Rune? Well," she amended, "the half of the True Rune?"

Wakaba looked up at the sky. "He didn't use Bright Shield a lot. I guess he tried not to make too big a deal of it."

Kora frowned. "Not make a big deal of it? What?"

Wakaba looked puzzled. "Huh?"

"Some of the scholars think the True Runes are gods! And even if they're not, they -how can-" Kora bit off her words abruptly.

There was a long silence.

"Sorry," Kora muttered. "My...homeland was destroyed because of a True Rune."

"Oh."

Kora plucked a small spring beauty from the grass and fingered its petals. "Don't you think it's interesting?"

"What?"

"That True Runes are used for war."

Wakaba sat up. "How so?"

"They don't really protect anyone. At least, they only protect people for war-type situations. All their power is channeled towards destruction. Some of the True Runes even want to annihilate each other. And...Wakaba, do you know if it's true? That True Runes take away their bearers' free will?"

Wakaba frowned. "Free will? How so?"

"Well..." Kora paused, trying to explain herself without giving away too much of her education. "I heard a story once that the leader of the Sindar Clan -you know about the Sindars?"

"Yeah, everyone does."

"Well, didn't their chief have the Rune of Change? It forced the clan to always wander, always drag up their anchors. The reason we have Sindar ruins all over the world is because the Rune never let them rest. It made them wander, forever. Don't you see? It's cruel."

Wakaba looked thoughtfully at the fair. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Riou had to fight his old friend. I heard it was because their Runes are eternally in opposition."

"So he didn't have his free will?"

Wakaba looked troubled. "Well...I wouldn't say that. I -I don't much understand it, really."

Kora sighed heavily. "I guess we can't."


	14. Chapter 14

14

XXX

Kora refused to go all teary-eyed. It was not, she reminded herself, as though she had bonded with either Viktor or, bad luck, Flik. Still, as they came closer to Crystal Valley, Kora found herself thinking wistfully how much fun she had traveling away from Caleria. Though they'd never left the Empire's border, she hadn't felt like a slave.

She'd felt like an idiot, generally after they'd run up against the mountain wildlife, and she'd had to demonstrate how little she could control Butter Knife, but she'd always been treated as an equal.

The last night of their adventure together, they stopped at an inn in a little town just south of the capital. Viktor paid up at dinner that night. Kora stared a bit round eyed at the coins as he dropped them into her palm, but she tried to hide it.

"You did a good job," Viktor said, his normal affability compounded by two mugs of beer. "Granted, I hope you never try to be a gladiator or a fencing instructor... I don't think you're really cut out to be a merc either, but you should be able to get back to Caleria in one piece."

Flik shot Viktor a quick glance, but the older mercenary had tilted his mug back and seemed to be examining it for any stray drops of beer. Flik looked at Kora dubiously.

Kora bristled. "Yes? I'm sure you want to say something."

Flik seemed to chose his words carefully. "I'm not convinced you can make it back alive."

"What are you talking about?" Wakaba flared up. "I saw Kora take down a Hawkman just the other day."

Flik frowned. "Only because you'd already broken one of its wings and grounded it."

Kora took her hands from the table, put them in her lap, where no one could see how white her knuckles became. "Listen, I know I'm not very good, but-" She laughed mirthlessly. "Not much you people can do about it. You have your own quest." She looked at Flik head on, giving him the full benefit of her defiant glare.

Flik grimaced and, to Kora's extreme disappointment, said, "You're right. Looking after yourself is something you need to do. Keep up your tough attitude."

Kora nodded quickly and looked away, trying not to acknowledge that she felt crushed. She'd really been hoping that she had made friends, people who would care about her, would insist on knowing that she'd be safe.

Kora compressed her lips. Viktor and Flik has their own agenda, and if they didn't want to concern themselves with her, that didn't make them bad people. It just meant that she, Kora, had to be all the stronger.

The coins in her palm were very cold. Her fingers made a tighter fist around them, trying to warm them.

XXX

Kora had difficulty sleeping that night. It wasn't because they were sharing their room with a family of five, though the mother had a colicky baby, and she kept insisting on Wakaba and Kora running errands for her. Even if Viktor didn't snore loud enough to bring down the roof and frighten the cows in the barn so much that their milk soured, Kora would still have felt restless and anxious. She knew Flik was a wise warrior. If he didn't think she had much chance alone...

Kora got up from her pallet, ignoring the baby's whimpers, and sat down by the low window. She rested her forearm against the sill and her face on the arm.

_Idiot. Stupid. You aren't a mercenary. Why are you even trying?_

Her eyes felt warm and wet. She tensed her closed eyelids.

_Nobody cares. You have no obligation to anybody. If you want to die, now's the time._

Kora swallowed._ Evil thought. Very evil thought. But can I comfort myself by saying it's not true? If I only had something to fight for, I could go back to Caleria and keep trying, but..._

_Grania fought to find me. But the person she fought for was killed by Waldron five years ago. I have no more political value. I can't attempt to alter the grand schemes of nations. I can't save hundreds of lives with a well-chosen diplomatic smile._

_Kolgrim wanted to marry me. I was just an asset to his rank. Though he was always kind, the only reason he sought me was my lineage._

_My father fought for Sanady, but he ended up as Grania's -a Harmonian's- lover. My mother vanished, never came back to Sanady. My half-siblings were killed. My older sister left to be a Scarlet Moon bride before I could really remember her. I don't even know if she's alive. No, there's no living for my family. And Father. Apparently, fighting for your country can only last so long. She smiled bitterly._

_Well. I may die on the road home. If so, I'm not spending the rest of my short life in self-pity._ She straightened and wiped her eyes.

"Here," said Wakaba, holding out a handkerchief.

"Thanks," Kora snuffed, taking it and applying it to her tear ducts.

Wakaba sat next to her, arms around knees. "Hey. I have an idea."

"What?"

"How about you don't go back to Caleria? You can escape across the eastern border and live in the Grasslands."

Kora sighed. "I don't know anyone in the Grasslands."

"Well, you're bound to meet someone soon."

Kora opened her mouth to reply, but all her protests lodged in her throat. She couldn't even begin to explain to Wakaba. _No one would take me in. I can't do anything but governess work. And I'd never pass the borders, they'd demand to see if I had a tattoo. And I do have a tattoo and no commanding officer to allow me to cross._ Kora sighed and shook her head. "No. I... I need to stay in Caleria. At least for now. Maybe...when I'm stronger and I've learned more, I'll think about escaping."

Wakaba frowned, her wide brown eyes sad. "You shouldn't have to go back to being a slave. I wish Viktor and Flik could take you with us. Maybe if-"

Kora shook her head, remembering how little Flik thought of her fighting ability. It was wounded vanity as much as pragmatism that made her say, "No, I've slowed you three down enough."

"But -oh, you're stubborn." Wakaba ran her fingers through her hair.

"I should give you your clothes back."

"No. It'd be criminal to leave you in your duds. Especially when you've turned your pants into a backpack."

"True."

Kora looked back out the window. The moon had waxed gibbous, slanted and mottled as a snake's egg.

"Do you... think you'll be able to make it?"

_I don't know. I suppose anything can happen. _"I made it down alone the first time. And I knew even less about swordfighting than I do now, so...yeah."

"Oh. Good." Wakaba looked down at her knees.

"Wakaba," Kora said suddenly, the string of her words snagging as they came out, "thank you so much for -for hiring me."

"Oh, it wasn't-"

"And -thanks for being so nice." Kora looked resolutely away. "It's been a long time since...I had any friends my own age." She closed her eyes, thinking of her friend Portia. She braced as she felt Wakaba's sad gaze on her shoulders. "All right," Kora said abruptly, "cut out the pity."

"Oh no," Wakaba murmured. "I have to pity you. Just think, of all the people to befriend, you befriended ME!" She ended on a happy squeal and hugged Kora violently. Kora thought she heard Flik swear and roll over on his cot emphatically.

"I'm going to come back to Caleria," Wakaba was saying decisively, "to make sure you're okay. And I'll hire you on another job, and we can go exploring together and find a way for you to escape."

"Sure," Kora laughed. "But you have to bring two hot guys again."

"Yeah, guys that'll actually be fun to run away with," Wakaba said pointedly.

"Guys who don't have lives," Viktor muttered.

Wakaba whirled to face him. "Viktor! You're supposed to be asleep!"

"Yeah," he grunted, "just like you."

"Do you mind not screaming so much?" the farmer they were sharing their room with asked wearily.

"Mawmmy," one of the children drowsily said, "can we have punkin bread for breakfast?"

Wakaba turned back to Kora and hugged her again. "Yes. You have to make it home safe. Because I want to see you when I come back."

"With your master?"

"Master Chan? Huh, I'll probably be chasing him south at that point."

"Well then," Kora said, "I guess I had better make it back home."

XXX

"Ah now. Well look at this. The pretty girl lives!"

Kora, striding into the mercenary district of Caleria, was brought up a bit short. She hadn't expected to be remembered by weapons master Salju, let alone greeted by him. Salju was busy in the Bujutsu ring with a student. He took a moment to throw the pudgy young man over his shoulder before coming over to the fence and leaning against it, his dark face grinning brightly. "So, how did she manage to survive?"

"She had conscientious companions on the way up," Kora replied dryly. "And she stayed in large crowds on the way down."

Salju eyed her. "Hm, developing some muscle. And you have money now. When's your next lesson going to be?"

Kora eyed the pudgy young man who was wobbling around the ring, trying to focus his eyes on his dropped sword. "When are you free?"

"Come around evening, we'll see what you've learned."

Kora nodded. "Thanks." She turned away from Salju. It was midafternoon, and she'd been back in Caleria for about an hour. She'd taken the time to register herself at the Citadel, pay the Citadel its considerable share of her earnings, and have a bath in her room. She walked aimlessly around Caleria, depressed she'd left her only friend far in the north. She eyed the stalls, unwilling to spend her small share of money on anything but the necessities. She sat by a small fountain, studying her reflection. Her hair needed a cut, and though she hadn't freckled, she was badly sunburned. She ran her hands experimentally along her arms. Salju was right. There was muscle there, muscle that hadn't been there a few months ago. Not very impressive muscle, but nevertheless.

Kora decided that she'd have dinner early. Best to have the food nicely settled by the time Salju got to her. She crossed the dusty streets to the Spear and Head. It was almost empty, but she felt defensive in these still-new surroundings and chose a stool far in the corner of the bar. The Calerian bar keep wasn't too pleased to see a dinner customer this early, but he got the cook frying her up some ground beef, green pepper and couscous with minimal nagging.

Feeling lonely and at loose ends now that she was home, Kora watched the clientele trickle in, most of them mercenaries, but also some merchants and even several street performers. She nursed her small beer and nibbled her meal, wondering what her next move would be. Train with Salju whenever possible, that much was obvious. But how to keep earning money?

"Hey, you came back?"

Kora looked up. "Don't tell me you've been missing me this whole time?"

"No other woman lets me buy her dinner as much as you do and -oh, you've already bought yours. Oh well." Joker sat down on the stool next to her and ordered a beer. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," Kora said breezily. She studied Joker a moment, her eyebrow raised. "You're growing a mustache?"

The pugilist grinned, displaying the line of new black fuzz on his upper lip. "I think it makes me look distinguished."

Kora sipped her beer. "It's nice to have conviction."

Joker narrowed his eyes but let it slide. "So, you're really serious about being a mercenary?"

Kora leaned against the tavern wall. "What else is there?"

Joker flicked a significant look at her figure and chuckled heartily. Kora really should've seen that coming, but for the rest of her life, she never entirely forgave Joker for that laugh. She demonstrated this by hooking her left foot in the rung of his stool and capsizing it. For a moment, Joker was a flailing blur of maroon before he hit the floor, the stool clattering after him. Kora took another sip of beer and blamed her temper on her father.

Joker huffed himself upright and gave Kora an outraged glare. Still, he showed enviable restraint as he picked up his mug and stalked across the tavern. A few mercenaries laughed, but most of them ignored the entire exchange.

XXX

"So," Kora puffed, only on her third push up, "you really think Katabu will hire me?"

"He needs someone who can read," Salju replied, watching her sweat as he took a long draw from his hip flask.

"The-" Kora stopped in the middle of her push up, her arms quivering in agony. She slowly raised herself a fourth time. "The doctor here can't read? I don't believe that."

"Can't read well," Salju cheerfully corrected her. "He can tell 'chamomile' from 'cayenne', that's a relief. But I don't think he can tell 'chamomile' from 'camphor'."

Kora mulled this over as she rested for a moment, spread-eagled on the ground. The doctor needing a literate was a windfall, that much was obvious. But how much would he pay?

"Number five?" Salju prompted. "Don't make me start you all over at one. Again."

Groaning, Kora forced herself up again.

"A swordsman's arms are his glory," Salju lectured, complacently flexing his own impressive arms.

"A swordsman's arms," Kora gasped, sweat running down the back of her neck, "are the death of me."

"Think of how easy it will be to lift those jars of medicine. Mmm hmm," Salju said, taking another sip. "This is necessary training."

XXX

Kora stepped into the clinic an hour later, her muscles feeling rubbery and insubstantial. She paused to let her eyes adjust. Every building in Caleria seemed to compensate for the blinding sunlight outside by being musty and dark inside. Eventually she saw shelves piled high with jars and paper-wrapped bundles. The ceiling was a dirty jungle of hanging plants, and behind the counter there was a single shelf of thick books. Wedged in one corner was a table, a chair, and a messy paper screen had been folded and tipped against one wall. There was a door behind the counter leading, presumably, to the doctor's living quarters.

Kora stepped to the counter. In lieu of the gleaming brass bell she was expecting, there was an enormous oyster shell. She picked it up and heard it rattle. Probably full of smaller shells. She shook it once, then put it back down next to a jar filled with some algae-green liquid and a small yellow brain.

A squat Calerian appeared from the door. His large round eyes flashed over Kora, and he rubbed his hands together. "Baby has a pox?"

Kora frowned. "Excuse me?"

The man pointed to a root on one of the shelves, purple mottled with brown. "Buy that, steep it in-"

"There's no pox."

"Oh." He studied her again. "Fungus, then? You want this tea-" He picked up a jar. "And you need to-"

"Are you Katabu?"

The man raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled slowly. "Yeah, I am. So, tula, it's me you want?"

Kora wasn't sure she wanted to answer that. Against her better judgment, she said, "Yes." As he came sidling around the counter, she said, "I hear you need an assistant who can read." About then, she realized that her hand was already on Butter Knife's hilt. She wasn't ready to release it yet.

Katabu stopped halfway around the counter. "Yeah, tula, I do. Can you read?"

"Try me."

He guffawed. "If you insist, tula, if you insist. There's a room in the back- OOF!"

Kora stared at Katabu as he slammed backwards into his counter and bounced. Then she stared at her right foot, braced for another kick. She half wished Katabu would try something again, just so she could work in a punch next time.

Katabu didn't seem terribly surprised at her reaction. He huffed and slid to a sitting position, his back against the counter. "Okay, tula, fine. Get one of those books and show me you can read."

After Kora had satisfied the doctor that she could tell the difference between "lavender" and "laudanum", to say nothing of "pepper" and "persimmon", as well as "all-spice" and "arsenic", he agreed to give her trial period of a month, six hundred potch a week.

"Fifteen hundred."

He chuckled, his eyes hovering not on her face. "You want fifteen hundred, you'll have to do a bit more."

"A thousand."

"Nah."

"A thousand or you'll have to pay for the castration."

Katabu eyed Butter Knife. Kora kept her expression hard. She, in fact, had never castrated anything, but she had been a court-actress for most of her life.

"A thousand," he said. He eyed her consideringly. "Tula, you're crazy."

"But employed."

He shook his head. "Mercenary isn't a woman's business. They aren't going to hire you. Not to fight. You'd do better elsewhere. If you weren't so pimply, you'd look pretty good."

Kora unsheathed Butter Knife. She was quite good at doing that smoothly by then. "Can you spell the difference between 'employer' and 'eunuch'?"

"Enough yap, tula." He stretched and glanced at a cheap clock mounted behind the counter. "Almost ten. Okay, the clinic closes at eleven-"

"The clinic closes?"

Katabu shrugged. "If people get ground up in some drunken brawl, it's not my problem. Now me, I'm very busy. Got that? I won't be around the clinic a lot."

"What? But -who will see to the patients?"

"You can read. And there are the books. I'll see you sometime tomorrow, tula."

Kora glared at the doctor as he waddled out. She might have shouted him out for a bit, but she was glad to be alone.

XXX

Kora's days fell into a steady rhythm, almost steady enough to set a clock by. She awoke early in the morning and came to the clinic. If it wasn't filled with the cacophony of Katabu's snores in the back room, she knew he hadn't returned from Scarlet Street yet. In either case, she was on her own until noon. She spent the morning with books. They were old, ratty, and looked as though they'd propped more than few tables up, but they seemed to be fairly comprehensive. Kora would leave for lunch mentally drilling the chapters she'd read. She hadn't done that since her days (only months ago) as a governess, and the studying was rather soothing.

After lunch she got to cleaning. She realized on her first day that the place was absolutely filthy. She spent her first afternoon ripping the plants from the walls (swearing as tides of dislodged bugs splattered onto her), clearing the shelves and heaving the little brain and all the trash into the enormous stove at the blacksmith's.

As the weeks passed, she made lists of the ingredients she needed, dipping into the clinic's savings to put in orders with the merchants that traveled through Caleria. She also received permission from the Citadel to go into the mountains and garner the ready supplies there. She taught herself to make the items the mercenaries required for their travels: medicines, antidote, unguents and tonics. One book even yielded a recipe for hard lemon candy that protected against scurvy. Katabu wasn't exactly thrilled to find that she'd converted one corner of the clinic into an apothecary kitchen, but he did like the money. Kora counted the potch every night. When she felt too much of it was going towards Scarlet Street, she began to hide a percentage of it with an absolutely clear conscience.

When she wasn't working in the clinic, she was at the Bujutsu Ring, either waiting for a lesson with Salju or challenging other students to spar. She was humiliated fairly often, but she kept going. Joker, running into her at the Spear and Head one evening, commented on her resilience. Kora nodded, glad that no one could see how often she'd bitten the inside of her lip with helpless frustration.

Therefore, two months passed.


	15. Chapter 15

15

Joker slumped over the counter, cradling his head in his hands. Kora, having just begun her early-morning reading session, looked up from her book and studied him dispassionately. "You need a hangover tonic."

Joker, by way of answer, groaned softly.

Kora sighed. "Be back in a moment." She ran to a booth further down the street from the clinic, bought several eggs from the vendor, and returned. Joker had shuffled over to the cot and was lying face-down on it, his hands clapped over his ears, whimpering slightly. Kora rummaged around the glasses and dishes she'd bought to mix her potions, selected a clean tumbler. She cracked one of the eggs into it, then added several choice ingredients, including a lemon extract, some cayenne pepper, and liberal dash of hotroot. She passed it to the sufferer. "Hundred fifty potch."

Joker groaned and gulped at the same time. He came up spluttering and red in the face, but his eyes were blinking their way open. "Can't you... come up with a special rate for repeat customers?"

"Wash it out, please."

Kora had hauled in three tubs of water not an hour ago and, slowly heated by a fire rune shard she'd bought, they were now pleasantly boiled and cooling. Joker dumped the tumbler in one with a sigh and swished it around. Kora put the rest of the eggs in a bowl, then placed it in a cabinet she'd had installed. It was filled with several water rune shards, ideally suited to keep delicate potions chilled.

Plunking the tumbler on the table, Joker handed over the potch. He shivered briskly. "Well, that did the trick. Been having a lot of us this morning?"

Kora realized that he was alluding to the fact that she'd had to buy more eggs. "Yeah. I heard some noise last night. Something big at the Spear?"

"Hazard threw a party for his son's twentieth birthday." Joker whistled. "We're still recovering."

Kora had heard of Hazard, though she'd never personally met him. The grizzled captain's drinking was legendary. "You look pretty tanked."

"Yeah...yeah..." He blinked confusedly at her. "I... had some news for you. Gimme a moment to remember..."

Kora rolled her eyes. "Is this even something I want to hear?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah, it is. I heard some people asking about you."

Kora didn't show her sudden chill of alarm._ No, why would anyone from Crystal Valley follow me here? I'm not important anymore._"Who?" she asked, voice natural.

"Captain Grav. You know him, right, the guy with the wide mouth?"

"Yeah. He got the extra inch ripped open in a fight, right?"

"That's him. He says, and I quote, 'I'm looking for that cute bitch freelancer.'"

Kora narrowed her eyes. "And you thought of me, naturally."

Joker shrugged. "It was just so obviously you he was talking about."

Kora sighed. "I can't leave here until Sabda gets here." Sabda was a local girl she'd hired to run the shop while Kora trained. "But I'll talk to him as soon as I can."

Which was around three. Kora knew that Grav's platoon, the Eighteenth Unit, generally congregated by the stable when waiting for their captain. Kora wasted several moments petting Cast-Off before she saw the short captain saunter up, his mouth in a perpetual sneer. "Hey," she said as he proceeded to walk past her.

Grav stopped and eyed her sidelong. "...Yeah?"

Kora frowned irritably. "I thought you were looking for me."

Grav raised his bristly eyebrows. "Say what?"

Kora narrowed her eyes. "Me. The bitch freelancer."

Grav stared at her a moment. Then he began to laugh, shoulders shaking. "Aw, no, tula," he said eventually. "I didn't mean you."

"As if," said a feminine voice at Kora's elbow.

Kora turned and looked down into a pair of pale blue eyes, liberally ringed with kohl and a shimmery blue paste. Kora's gaze dropped to a dark red smirk in a powder-pale face.

Kora raised her eyebrows.

Whoever this was, Kora didn't like her looks. Her face was heavily made-up, though she otherwise had very beautiful features. Her blonde hair was straight and clipped close around her head, fanning delicately just behind her ears. She was several inches shorter than Kora but curvier, her figure encased in a strapless suede bustier and a pair of blue leather pants ending in combat boots. Her right arm bristled with a heavily articulated gauntlet, and there was a thin, gold-hilted rapier on her left hip.

"I believe Grav's words were," she said smoothly, "the cute freelancer."

Kora bit the inside of her lip for just a moment. "Actually, it was the cute bitch freelancer."

"Hey, c'mon tulas," Grav said. "No harm done."

The woman looked Kora over. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

Kora gave her a sweet smile. "That's because I didn't come from Scarlet Street."

The woman's eyes flashed, then she laughed, displaying white teeth. "Yes, dear, I can see that."

Kora's cheeks went red with indignation.

"A good thing to do," the woman said, "is to spread egg yoke on your pimples. I've heard that can help."

"I'm sure it did wonders for you."

"Hey, Elaine-" Grav said. "We really don't have time for-"

"Back off," they said at the same time.

Elaine crossed her arms under her impressive décolletage. "I have to get going."

Kora smirked. "I thought you'd say that."

Elaine's lovely eyes narrowed. "Listen, chick. Don't blame me if you go back home penniless."

It took a moment for Kora to sort out what she was saying. She laughed. "That's cute. You're saying I don't have a chance because I'm not dressed like a fifty-potch hooker? Come on, if the mercs want to hire one of those, they have other places to go."

There was a flash of steel. With a bolt of shock, Kora realized that Elaine's rapier point was nestled between her collar bones. Elaine laughed softly. "No one can hire a merc with no arms, honey."

Kora stepped away from the point, frowning as Grav and Elaine walked off. She rubbed her collarbone, smearing away the slight trickle of blood.

Then she turned and charged towards the Bujutsu Ring. Seeing her, even Salju was a wee bit alarmed.

XxX

Time marched on. Kora became confident enough in her healing to begin treating the wounded, working up from concussions to setting broken bones. She still lacked any confidence in surgery, so the bad cases continued to go to the perpetually overworked garrison hospital.

Kora was also improving. It wasn't just that she'd read up on ways to treat her skin (which refused to be treated, for the most part), but her constantly aching muscles informed her that she was improving as a fighter. Kora studied her newly burgeoning muscles with mixed feelings; her whole life, she'd worked to keep her body soft, harmless and feminine. Salju trained her with the idea that her fists and legs were just as vital in a fight as her sword. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the fact that she was changing into another person.

She avoided Elaine, which wasn't hard.

Kora was being slammed around the Bujutsu Ring one morning when she realized she was being watched. Kora only had a moment to glance at the figure before Salju's scimitar was slicing towards her. She hurriedly gave ground, angry at her teacher for selecting a weapon that was particularly difficult to defend against. You couldn't parry the thing. About all you could do was wait for the other man to leave his stomach unguarded while making a wide slash. Which Salju refused to do.

Butter Knife had its usefulness, in places. It was weighted at the end; another slasher. But Salju, judging her to be suited to the sabre, had been training her in both slashing and stabbing, and Kora felt absolutely useless with her weapon. After a few misguided thrusts on Kora's part, Salju shook his head and angled his scimitar away. "No, you-"

Kora lunged. Grinning, Salju aimed a light kick to the middle of her chest. Kora staggered back. "Worth a shot."

Salju nodded. "Anything is, when you're desperate."

Kora exhaled between her teeth. "It's the weapon's fault."

To her extreme surprise, Salju agreed. "It is. You're getting too good for that. Invest in a light sabre. No more than two pounds, at the most. It'll do you more good than ten lessons with that crowbar."

Kora frowned. "Pretty dream, but I don't have that kind of money."

Salju shrugged. "Save your potch. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Kora sheathed Butter Knife (she'd finally acquired enough extra money to buy a swordbelt and scabbard). Then Kora started for the ring's gate, eyeing her one man audience. He was eyeing her back, an older man with short grayed blond hair. He was leaning on an unusual weapon, a wood staff topped by a slim four-pronged hammer with a curved blade on one end and a spike on its top. A Raven's Beak, she'd heard it called. Good for punching through platemail and other breeds of mayhem.

Kora coldly raised her eyebrows as she left the ring. If he called her "tula"...

"Tula," the man said.

"Buzz off."

He snorted. "If that's how you greet all business propositions, you'll get nowhere fast."

Kora stopped walking and turned to look at him again. "You're Hazard, aren't you?"

"Hazard the Long-lived," he replied, stepping up to her. "Long-lived" was only relative. He was no more than fifty, but a mercenary successfully operating at fifty was a rarity. "And you're Kora."

"Yeah."

He jerked his thumb at the Bujutsu Ring. "Salju recommended you."

Kora tried not to look surprised. "For what?"

Hazard snorted. "Damn, tula, for work. I'm the captain of the Forty-First Unit."

Kora labored to keep the amazement out of her voice and the hope out of her eyes. "You want to take me on?"

Hazard narrowed his eyes. "We're not getting married, tula. For the next job though, sure. We lost Marx on the last mission, and three is just too few to operate successfully. So, you ready to head out in two days?"

A little bewildered by this swift operating, Kora pretended to consider. "I guess I could."

"Lofty miss. Is it interfering with a tea party in Crystal Valley?"

Kora dropped the pretense. "I'm a slave. You'll have to clear it with the Citadel."

Hazard waved a hand negligently. "Meet us at South Gate in two days. Before noon. Sober." He laughed. "I'm the only one who's allowed to be sloshed on a mission." He saluted and walked past her, attempting to pinch her posterior in the process. Kora jumped aside but didn't have time to land a punch or kick. Hazard laughed his way into the market district.

Seething, Kora turned towards the Ring, watching Salju pummel a student. _Are you crazy, Salju? I've only been here four months, and you think I'm going to last on a real mission? They've already lost a seasoned member._

_Well. Maybe I will survive after all._


	16. Chapter 16

16

Kora was waiting at South Gate by nine in the morning. She'd settled her affairs with Katabu: Sabda would run the clinic while she was away, and Katabu would be forced to spend some time doctoring. Kora sighed, thinking of the mess she'd have to look forward to when she returned. Then she went back to tapping her foot impatiently and trying not to look nervous.

Yesterday, she'd asked Joker what he knew of the Forty-first Unit. The most Joker was aware of was Hazard's reputation as a drinker and a risk-taker. He had mentioned that Hazard couldn't stand horses, so Kora had been forced to get someone to look after Cast-Off. She wondered if she ought to sell the mare...

By nine-forty-five, Kora noticed that a tall middle-aged bald man had also been waiting at the gate for a quarter hour. He was dressed in drab, dark greens, a snug vest strapped over bare muscle, baggy pants, knives shoved into his belt and well-worn boots. His profile was harsh, his eyes narrow. A long staff in his right hand proved, after some inspection, to be an unstrung longbow. Kora belatedly noticed the long quiver of arrows on his back. He wore no gloves, and Kora could clearly see that he had a fire rune on his left hand, a water rune on his right, and a pale gate rune on his forehead.

Impatient, Kora decided to put her best foot forward. She wasn't sure how to go about doing this. During her days at court, new acquaintances had either been introduced by mutual friends or heralded by footmen. "Hey," she said awkwardly, "you with the Forty-first?"

The man swung his head around to her, staring at her from under long dark brows, bunched together in a frown. "Yes. You're the girl?"

"Yeah."

After a moment's thought, he uncrossed his large arms and presented his palm. "Kibosh."

Kora raised her eyebrows, quite new to this Calerian greeting. They shook, her hand feeling too small and soft in his. "Er, kibosh."

His lips tightened, maybe into a smile. "It's my rissul."

Kora was unfamiliar with the word, though she recognized it as Calerian. "Ah..."

He recrossed his arms. "My professional name."

"Oh." Should I have one? ..._No, why bother? They'll just call me tula. _She stood a moment in thought, wondering why on earth someone would be nicknamed Kibosh. "So, is Hazard late, or are we early?"

Kibosh shrugged. "Whichever he thinks. Aleccus is probably scraping him off the tavern counter. They'll be along."

"Aleccus is..."

"Haz's son. Second in command."

"Ah. I'm guessing that I'm lowest on the totem pole."

Kibosh shrugged. "When Hazard's sober, yes."

Kora was a bit alarmed. "And when he's not?"

"H'LO! Alla ya! Glad you could make it!" Hazard hooted across the morning. He came striding towards the front gate, churning up small clouds of sand around him. His son, several inches shorter, had the same square, unremarkable features. His blond hair was worn in a long tail down his back. He was rolling his eyes.

Before Kora could react, Hazard had clapped her a mighty clap on the shoulder. "Gents, I want you to meet the lovely Kora. She'll be gracing us with her presence for the time being. She's a pea-green noob, so let's all be extra-patient. Now then, stop loitering! We gotta job to do!"

Aleccus rolled his eyes. Kibosh put his fist to his mouth, yawning.

Hazard stared at them all. "Okay, fine. Introductions. Kora, you already know me, the omnipotent Hazard. That over there is Kibbles, and the fruit of my loins here is called Aleccus, 'nincompoop' for short. Now then, damozel, you got a rissul?"

Kora shrugged.

"Well, neither does the loin-fruit." Hazard shook his head. "I tell you. You don't _feel_ like a mercenary until you've got an implausible moniker. How about Kora the Raven-Haired Beauty of Eradication?"

"You," Kibosh said, "are inebriated."

"What better way to start a mission?"

Aleccus sighed. "Dad, let's just get on with it."

Hazard rounded on his son, suddenly angry. "Where are your manners, whelp? Kora is new here! She's yet to be acclimatized!"

"Acclimatized?" Kibosh repeated.

"I'm sure she'll get along fine," Aleccus said patiently.

"What? A delicate petunia like her?"

"Petunia?" Kora repeated.

"She needs to be treated with gentleness and-"

"This is the treatment you'll get when he's drunk," Kibosh told her.

Hazard had grasped her by the elbow. "Now, c'mon, my dear, we've a ways to go. I apologize for the dirty ground, it can't be helped. Watch those pebbles now."

XXX

By late afternoon, Hazard's drunkenness had evaporated, and he was shouting at Kora to pick up the pace. They were heading south into the Knightdom of Matilda, having been hired to tail a merchant that one of the local Calerian lords suspected of embezzling. After they'd been attacked by two of the wildcats that roamed the area, Hazard had expressed his contempt of Kora's sword skills in three dialects. After that, he placed her on point. Aleccus was only a pace or two behind her, and though Kora had seen enough of his fighting to know he was far more skilled than she, she began to sweat nervously. When their group was ambushed by a pack of DoReMi elves, her shriek hit a higher pitch than any of the elves'. It would be months before Hazard let her forget that.

This mission was Kora's first experience of tailing someone, let alone spying on him. The first thing she learned was that breaks for sleeping or eating were entirely arbitrary and that anyone could learn to doze while marching. Their mark finally stopped in Rockaxe, a fortress-city Kora had only ever heard of in history books. She thought they'd be able to tail him easily in the large city, but Kibosh told her she couldn't be more wrong. Inside four walls, their tracking became far more delicate. Their first day in Rockaxe, Hazard insisted she spend the entire afternoon in their room at the Silver Egg Inn so she wouldn't get in their way.

"Room?" Kora repeated dubiously.

Hazard rolled his eyes. It had been a week since he'd been sloshed, and he was more than just irritated. "_Room_, tula."

This issue had never come up when she'd been traveling before. She'd trusted Viktor and Flik because Wakaba trusted them; in fact, she'd been grateful to them for protecting two young woman would otherwise have been prime targets for thieves and rapists. Kora felt comfortable with Kibosh and Aleccus, but she didn't want to be sharing a room with Hazard after several beers.

"Listen," Kora said, trying to sound calm and diplomatic, "it wouldn't cost too much extra to get another room, would it?"

"Room," Hazard repeated, walking up into the inn's counter and smacking down his potch. "If you're going to be squeamish, you can get the hell out."

Kora spent her time pacing the inn room, waiting for the men to return from their spying and hoping Hazard would get so sloshed he'd pass right out. She went down for lunch, afterwards walking down a few of the nearer streets. Towards midafternoon, she went back up to the room. It was nice room, given the inn's cheapness. Everything in Rockaxe seemed to be built on a large scale, so the room was spacious enough to let her pace in. There was a washstand with a bowl and pitcher of cheap plaster. There were flowered curtains on one window, badly moth-eaten.

There was only one bed.

Kora smoothed out her sleeping-roll as far from the bed as she could get it, snug against the washstand. She unsheathed Butter Knife, studying its blunt edge, wishing she had a dagger. Butter Knife couldn't possibly be concealed.

It wasn't until an hour after dinner that Kibosh and Aleccus tromped back into the room, looking tired. Kora, sitting on her roll, felt her nerves prickle. "Where's Hazard?"

"On his third drink," Aleccus said, kicking out his bedroll. Kora looked away as he pulled his shirt over his head, but he only wadded it up to use as a pillow. Kibosh stretched.

"How did it go?" Kora asked.

"Not too bad," Aleccus answered, lying back and crossing his ankle on his knee. "Our client's suspicions were dead-on."

"The merchant won't be happy about being dragged back to Caleria," Kibosh said, pulling off his boots.

"How are we going to manage that?"

Aleccus glanced at Kibosh and grinned. "There are ways."

They hadn't paid for candles, so their room became dark after only another half hour. Kora lay on her side, feigning sleep. She'd unbuckled her swordbelt for comfort, but she rested her right hand on Butter Knife's hilt. She watched the moonlight sift through the curtains, watched their edges flutter in a faint wind. She couldn't tell whether Aleccus or Kibosh were asleep. Their breathing was regular, but she'd never heard either of them snore.

"Hey, Kora."

Kora practically jumped. "Um?"

"Don't worry about my dad. If anything happens, Kibosh and I can handle him."

Kora didn't answer.

"Unless...uh..."

Kora braced. "What?"

"I mean, if you want him to..."

Kora made a choking sound.

"You all right there?" came Kibosh's voice.

"I'm not sure whether I want to laugh...or throw up."

"You should know-" Kora saw that Aleccus had turned to her, "-that's what a lot of the female freelancers do. I mean, that's why some of them get hired. They get more money for it."

"Have to watch out, though," said Kibosh. "Pregnancy never helped a mercenary."

Kora sat bolt upright. She tried to speak evenly, but her anger lent a ragged edge to her voice. "I am not some bed-warmer. If your father puts a hand on me, I'll-"

"That's fine," Aleccus said quickly, also sitting up. "That's fine, no one said you had to. I just... wasn't sure what your, er, motives were."

Pressing her lips together, Kora lay back down.

"Merc's a strange business for a woman to be in," Aleccus commented after a few minutes.

"I didn't really have much choice," Kora said after a moment. "I guess. I mean..."

"It's a way to explore the world," Kibosh supplied.

"Yeah. That was a reason." Kora braced, waiting for them to ask what she had been before becoming a mercenary, but the question never came. _I guess Grania's right, she thought. No one needs to know in Caleria._

_Grania... I miss you so much._

The door banged open. All three of them shot upright, staring at Hazard in the doorway. The captain regarded Kora, his eyes narrowed. Then he swung around to the two men. "What the HELL is going on in here?"

They looked blankly at him.

"What do you think this is, a brothel?" He jabbed his finger to the hallway behind him. "OUT, d'ja here?"

Still blank.

"Aleccus, you toad-boil, I didn't raise you to be a womanizer! And Kibs! I thought better of you! How dare you force your company on her? Kora is a delicate dahlia who demands our abject respect! Understood? Abject respect! C'mon, we're sleeping in the hall!" He turned back. "Dearest lady, please avail yourself of the bed. If it's uncomfortable, I'll kill the innkeeper." He hiccuped. "C'mon men!"

Exchanging resigned looks, Aleccus and Kibosh filed out the door. Feeling bewildered, Kora climbed into the large bed. It was quite uncomfortable, but she decided not to mention it to Hazard, just in case he was still drunk in the morning.

XXX

Hazard was singing when Kora came down to breakfast, quite melodiously.

_My heart and my soul were both hers._

_Oh I told her I'd love her for all time,_

_She said I should pack up my dreams and go,_

_For she could never marry a mime._

Aleccus smiled faintly over a mug of muddy coffee. "Good news."

"Bad news," Hazard said, chipper. "Bad news for the black-hearted, fast-fingered, dough-dimpled swindler we'll be catching today."

Kora sat down between Aleccus and Kibosh. "'Dough-dimpled'?"

"Dough-dimpled," Hazard assured her, spearing a thick slice of ham on his knife before throwing back his head and yodeling-

_Oh his dimples are doughy,_

_his soul is white-snowy,_

_and his showy wares from the north-_

_He never will sell them,_

_his conscience could tell him,_

_to run when old Hazard comes forth!_

_For Hazard's a sly one,_

_and Al is a spry one,_

_and Kibs is an army and some._

_And Kora's a beauty,_

_she'll do her duty,_

_and squeak like an elf when we come!_

Aleccus eyed Kora sidelong over his drink. He had hazel eyes, she noticed. "I promise you that the mood will pass."

Hazard began to chuckle and was only stopped by his own hiccups.

Kibosh cast his captain an annoyed look. "Do you really want to advertise that we're here on a mission?"

Hazard glanced nonchalantly around the tavern. A few people were up, most of them eyeing their table warily. Hazard grinned. "And why not? A hunt's no good if the rabbit doesn't know to run."

Kora couldn't help being intrigued. "How will we capture him?"

"It doesn't start with capturing," Hazard said, eyeing her brightly. "Oh no, it starts with flushing the prey from his burrow."

XXX

Back in their room, Kora stared down at the item Hazard had thrust into her hands. "And where did you get this dress?"

Hazard widened his eyes. "I borrowed it?"

"You're asking _me_?"

"It looks like a good fit. And it's blue. You'll look swell in blue."

Kora sighed, searching for an excuse to get out of this. "Hazard, the merchant won't buy this-"

"Of course he will. I've heard you when you're all stiff. You sound just like a lady."

Kora briefly reflected that she'd have to learn not give herself away like that. "Yeah, but I'm sunburned, bruised-"

"And had a nice bath this morning," Hazard finished. "This is working out nicely. Now, get yourself into the dress. You see the pocket slits in the skirt? Don't bother with pockets. Keep your sword on underneath and you can draw it from there."

_Smashing,_ Kora thought, when Hazard had left and she was pulling off her clothes. _When I draw sword, I can wreak the skirt at the same time._

It was a fine dress. Not elaborate, the gray-blue satin was generously cut and well-sewn. Even decorated with an inch of silver lace, the neckline was rather lower than Kora would have liked, accentuated by her lack of jewelry. The sleeves were narrow, coming almost to her knuckles, and the skirt flared just enough to hide Butter Knife's shape. Kora practiced drawing sword through the pocket slit. It worked, but only because she was slow and careful.

Glad she'd been able to wash it this morning, Kora combed out her long hair. Unfashionable perhaps, but she knew no well-bred woman would go abroad with her hair in a simple ponytail. After reassuring herself that the long skirt hid the toes of her boots, she left the room.

The feel of silk against her skin disquieted Kora. It had been years since she'd worn anything this fine. But she didn't feel as though she were at last home again, in her proper place. She felt like an unwanted guest, looking in at the windows, staring at a party she'd been thrown out of.

_Playing parts. Come on, you've played parts before. You can do this._

Hazard whistled. "An excellent fit." He laughed. "I tell you, I'm glad we have a woman here. Usually we have to make Aleccus be a girl, and, trust me, he's not a welcome sight in a low-cut dress."

Aleccus took this stoicly.

"So you've tried this plan out before?" Kora asked, a bit reassured.

Hazard looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose so... We've run this gambit before. But, really, no two jobs are ever the same. Who knows how this one will go?"

XXX

The market of Rockaxe was large and orderly, with none of the impromptu awnings and hawkers that characterized Caleria. Even the street performers were well-behaved, surrounded by small groups who politely laughed and clapped.

Kora didn't linger, searching for the stall of their mark. The merchant's name was Tij, and he sold spices harvested from Harmonia's lush interior. Hazard had told her that Tij was Calerian, so she looked for a dark-skinned man. She ran into a group of people who might have been Karayans, but a quarter hour passed until she felt Aleccus lightly apply pressure to her elbow.

She turned. Aleccus was posing as her manservant. (Kora couldn't help thinking that a lady walking around lacking gloves, a hat, and a female companion was plenty suspicious, but this was the best they could do. More likely, passersby thought she was a prostitute putting on airs.) Aleccus nodded at a pale blue awning.

Lifting her chin and pretending she was back in the court of Cwenburra, Kora swept towards it.

Tij recognized them immediately. They had never met before, but Kora could see in the merchant's sharply narrowed eyes that he understood exactly what was going on. Hazard's rabbit knew to run.

But he didn't. Breaking out his teeth in an expansive smile, he bowed cordially to Kora. "Ah, my fine lady. How good to see you. I've been expecting you."

Kora smiled. As much as the silk had discomfited her, hearing the double-talk she'd been raised to speak was soothing. "I have awaited seeing you too, Merchant Tij. I know that your wares are the finest to come out of Harmonia -but so high-priced."

Still smiling, Tij eyed her carefully. "A man must live, my lady." He paused just long enough. "A man must live. The bounty of Harmonia is a blessing upon the entire earth, but living there is no simple matter. I -ah- am sure your ladyship empathizes."

_He's guessing I too am a third-class citizen. Well done, Tij. _"Indeed," Kora said, giving herself time to think of another reply. It was then that she noticed that she couldn't see Tij's hands; they were hidden behind his booth. She eyed the muscles in his lower arms, trying to see if he'd grasped a weapon, as she said, "Well, I'm glad I'm here to see your wares. I only wish, perhaps, that their prices weren't so..."

Tij raised his eyebrow. "For my lady, I believe I can lower the prices."

Kora gestured to Aleccus. "We should discuss this further."

Tij told an underling -a young man- to mind the front of the booth while he, Kora and Aleccus retired to a small room in the rear. Tij went to the back door and beckoned. A tall, strapping man walked in, hand resting on the hilt of a large scimitar. A bodyguard.

"All right," Tij said. He didn't lose the smile, but his tone was much brisker. "How much do you want?"

Aleccus shook his head. "I don't think you'll pay the balance of our job. It's too much."

Tij shot a calculating look at Aleccus. "Try math, kid. Maybe in the short run you won't get all your potch, but what about long term? Business relationships are so beautiful, you know."

Aleccus snorted. "You'll light off the first chance you get. You'll give us money, and then we'll never see another potch."

Tij smiled, far too quick for it to be genuine. "And what does your father think? He might like the potch-"

"Already told you, we're getting enough potch from our client."

Tij stopped smiling. "Okay. That's it then."

Of all the things that happened next, Kora had no idea which came first. There was a flash of lightning -the fool merchant had let off a spell in a small room, and the spears of light were stabbing in every direction. One pierced Kora's arm as she reached to draw her sword. Looking down, she saw no puncture in her skin, only a hideous burn spreading. There was a clatter of steel she felt in her bones as Aleccus parried the bodyguard's scimitar, then another clash as the door banged open and Hazard and Kibosh leapt in, knives glittering in Kibosh's hands.

Kora jerked Butter Knife free, tearing a jagged rip in her pretty skirt. Tij was hunched behind his bodyguard, casting lightning -a light-spear shot past Kora's eyes and seemed to blind her for a moment. The bodyguard had drawn a long dagger and was somehow fighting off both Kibosh and Aleccus at once. Where was Hazard? Hazard had shouldered past the bodyguard, swung the point of his Raven's Beak. The bodyguard stumbled to the ground, blood gushing out of the side of his head, reminding Kora horribly of when Lady Icasia had kicked her in the head, Lord Waldron had stabbed Kolgrim in the ear. Discarding a knife, Kibosh punched Tij in the ribs. The room was so quiet they could hear his bones crack. Tij's underling was rushing in, dagger drawn. Kora automatically parried the dagger, sent the underling staggering towards Aleccus who disarmed him and clouted him across the head. Using one arm, Kibosh hoisted Tij into the air and lobbed him to the other end of the room, where he slid down against the wall, tears streaming down his face as his body compressed over his broken ribs. But he was no longer casting magic.

"That," puffed Hazard, "was putting the Kibosh on a dough-dimpled merchant."

Kora felt ill.

XXX

Aleccus turned to her, frowning concernedly. "That wasn't your first time seeing blood, was it?"

"No," Kora answered, a bit dully. She wanted to be a bit dull, unresponsive. If she thought too much, she'd keep seeing the blood, seeing Kolgrim die. She shook her head, more to herself than to Aleccus' question._ I haven't thought of my husband in years._

_I never even mourned him._

She was sitting in the tavern with Aleccus and Kibosh, trying to calm herself after the stimulating day. They'd come out of Tij's booth to see four of Matilda's Red Knights cantering down the street towards them. Apparently the shoppers had heard the commotion. Hazard spent hours smoothing things over, showing their contract, their warrant, the official seal of their client, even telling Kora and Kibosh to flash their slave tattoos (Kora hadn't known Kibosh was a slave). Most of their client's advance went towards a bribe. Kora thought the knights, famed for chivalry, would refuse it, but they seemed to expect it, though they obviously were not pleased about the situation. Still, it paid for safety, and they had agreed to house Tij, his bodyguard, and his underling in one of the prisons for the night. Before they'd left, one of the Knights had glanced balefully at the unit. "You Harmonians need to learn to keep your fights within your own boundaries. They're large enough."

_Harmonian._ Kora did not like carrying that name. She had never thought of herself as one before. She'd always been a Sanadian, a slave, a mercenary.

It was getting close to evening again, and Kora felt tired. She'd changed out of the ruined dress, back into her normal clothes, and spread an unguent on her burn, which seemed to be helping. She joined the unit at dinner. About midway through, Hazard had gone off to talk with some woman, and they hadn't seen him since. Kibosh and Aleccus ate heartily while she nibbled, and Aleccus seemed to have just noticed.

Kibosh shrugged. "Fighting's not always easy."

He'd certainly made it look easy, Kora thought. She hoped they wouldn't say something about how she wasn't mercenary material. She'd heard it before.

She sat up, trying to look untroubled. "So that's our first job, huh? Now all we do is drag them back to Caleria?"

"Pretty much," said Aleccus.

"How are we going to do it? We can pry the rune off Tij, and that worker of his isn't much, but his bodyguard looks like he could be trouble with or without a weapon."

"We'll manage."

They managed. And, to Kora's surprise, the trip back to Caleria was much more cheerful than the trip south had been. Tij and his worker hardly made any escape attempts, and when they did, it was more amusing than anything else. Kibosh kept a firm hand and an unblinking eye on the bodyguard, and by the end of the journey, they had struck up a tenuous acquaintance. Hazard was in high spirits and thus more patient with Kora's frequent blunders when they were attacked by wild animals. Aleccus whistled to pass the time.

Kora wondered, _I'm returning to Caleria? To enslavement? Why?_

But the answer was not so complex. She still had much to learn before she could escape and live to enjoy it.

And, though she wasn't entirely sure, she may have found friends. At least, employers.

Maybe next time she'd escape.

XXX

She didn't. To Kora's relief, the next time Hazard received a commission, he hired Kora to accompany them. This continued for the next few jobs until Hazard officially signed her under the Forty-first Unit. It didn't change her circumstances much -she was still owned by the Citadel- but it gave her a feeling of security. Which seemed, just then, more precious than gold.

So she didn't escape. She was stronger, and her fighting skills were better. Jobs were always coming in, and the clinic was doing well.

It was with a bit of surprise when Kora woke up one morning and realized she'd been living in Caleria for more than a year.


	17. Chapter 17

17

By the time Kora had lived in Caleria four years, she had gone through four swords. She sold her horse Cast-Off to a merchant and was able to buy a replacement for Butter Knife, a short straight sword Hazard dubbed Pointy. That was all anyone could really say about Pointy.

On a job in south-eastern Harmonia, when the Forty-first Unit was chasing down a minor noble's daughter who had eloped with her own father-in-law, Pointy the Cheap snapped in two when Kora unsheathed it. This was Kora's first experience of fighting with half a weapon and one she never forgot. It was also during that trip that Kibosh began teaching her fire magic. During that trip was when he stopped training her in fire magic too. Kora returned to Caleria with a strong urge to master concocting burn unguents.

When Kora was a little over twenty-two and once again tired of trying to force excellence out of Butter Knife, she bought her first sabre, a cheap light one she christened Crescent. Nobody took that seriously. Hazard always called it Croissant, and even Aleccus called it Moony. Kora could not see the point of naming a weapon if no one was going to _respect_ it.

Crescent (as Hazard later put it) waned after only six months, when Kora ran afoul of a bandit chief from Kirov who carried a sword-breaker. This was the first time Kora had fought anyone outside a job. The bandit had been drunk, picked a fight with her seemingly at random. Joker found her at the last moment and saved her in three punches. She never forgot that either. Not that Joker would have let her.

Her next sword she nicked from the nobleman the unit was hired to tail, who attacked them, and whom they could only subdue by killing. Kora wasn't comfortable looting a corpse, scruples no one else in the unit really sympathized with. She needed a weapon, after all. Vermeil, a sabre with a cheap red stone on the hilt, met its untimely demise during Kora's first duel with Elaine that next year. Kora never remembered how that one started. Maybe they were drunk, but it was waged in midmorning, so probably not. Whatever else Kora couldn't remember, she always maintained that Elaine started it.

It took place behind the barracks at a time when most of the mercs were either still asleep or checking out the jobs. Kora was totally outclassed, but at least it wasn't in front of an audience. Elaine's foil darted like a dragonfly. Kora had no chance of parrying it, kept giving ground. Finally, with a mighty sweep, she slashed wildly at Elaine, going about a foot wide. Elaine was unharmed, but Vermeil and the adobe wall it hit couldn't say the same. Nor could Kora's shattered arm. Careful attention from a water rune had the arm working in just under a month, but Kora's ego would require considerably more time.

By then, Aleccus had promised to buy her when they were married.

Kora could never pinpoint when she fell in love with Aleccus, which made her wonder, sometimes, how much she really loved him. She did know that she had liked him almost as long as she could remember. She liked his quietness, his wry humor, the fact that he never questioned her past, which, in turn, let her forget it. With him, she stopped worrying that she had never really mourned Kolgrim, stopped worrying that she never knew_ how_ to mourn him. She reassured herself that clever Grania was fine and thought no further of her. Aleccus and the jobs more than filled her attention. She sometimes wished that, after she stopped being a mercenary, she could return to being a scholar just to write about all the people and places she'd seen. Her travels didn't range very far, only across southern Harmonia, occasional forays into Matilda, but she never found two villages the same. Other times, Kora wished her travels would never end.

* * *

Kora stood in the dim light of the armory among the racks of swords, trying to pick a replacement for Vermeil that she could pay for without going into debt for the next decade. She grasped the hilt of a sabre, then almost instantly slid it back into its rack; she'd learned by now to feel when a sword was too heavy for comfortable use. She hoisted a second one, holding it at arm's length. Something was off with the balance... 

"There you are!" squealed a female voice.

Kora turned only her head, but the rest of her body was tensed for action. Then she relaxed, blinking quickly. "Is that - are you-?"

"Didn't I say I'd be back?" the young woman asked, tossing her shoulder-length brown hair and tapping one bare foot. "Ooo, I know. All of your friends are liars! I see why you weren't expecting me."

Kora put the sword down and walked over to the woman, unsure how to greet her. In court, they would have formally kissed cheeks; she didn't know what mercenaries were supposed to do when greeting long-absent friends.

Wakaba threw her arms around Kora, knocking her back half a step. Then Wakaba had stepped back, chattering while the two of them surreptitiously studied each other.

"...so then I figured, if I'm on my way to Sajah, I can swing by Caleria. Not _too_ out of the way. Damn, those border guards are horny! Do you know one of them tried to - Ooo, you've got good muscle tone. Much better than when I saw you last. What, four years ago, right? And you're still here. I knew you could do it!"

Kora smiled and suggested they get some drinks. The tavern was fairly empty in the mid-morning, which Wakaba said was excellent. "Because I am sick of drop-kicking every man I see. Harmonian men are such pervs."

"Why are you going to Sajah?"

Wakaba sipped her drink experimentally. "To find Master Chan, of course."

Kora paused in the act of lifting her own drink. "You're still chasing him?"

"Well - yes." Wakaba blinked her brown eyes. "Training is very important, you know. It's not something you can stop when you reach a certain age. Master Chan just wants to make sure I don't slump away into an oozing goop of flab and uselessness."

"When was the last time you saw Chan?"

Wakaba thought a moment. "Twenty-eight months ago, I think."

They spent almost two hours catching up, talking about their separate travels. Wakaba had parted company with Viktor and Flik four years ago, but she imagined they were fine. She'd won three eating contests in Kamaro, but lost several drinking contests. She'd almost married a Northern Outlander last year, but had run out at the last moment.

Kora glanced down at the dregs of her drink and mentioned she was engaged.

"Oh," Wakaba said. She waited in silence while Kora verbally sketched out Aleccus and the rest of the unit. "So, he can really do that? Buy you? That sounds kinky."

"It isn't." Kora rolled her eyes. "Granted, I'd rather not belong to anyone, but this means I'll basically be free. We're only waiting until he has the money. I'm more than looking forward to it." She gestured around the tavern. "I won't have to call this home anymore. I'll be able to go anywhere I want, and no Harmonian border guards will be able to do anything about it."

Wakaba nodded over her drink, which was her third. "It's a good reason to get hitched."

"Well," Kora said, frowning slightly, "I like him for his own sake too."

Wakaba had her chance to meet Aleccus when she and Kora returned to the armory. He was going over the shelves of daggers, and he smiled when he saw Kora, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Wakaba nodded when she was introduced, then put her hands on her hips and looked Aleccus up and down, her lips pursed. She walked around him three times, bent down to examine his knees, and tutted.

"You remind me of my dad," Aleccus said after a moment.

"Then your dad must also be a good judge of character." She turned to Kora. "He seems nice enough."

"Yes, Aleccus is always nice. Even with a father like his. Anyway." She turned back to the weapons. "I just can't seem to find anything that suits me here." She pulled out a short sabre and swung it experimentally.

"Try this one." Aleccus held out a long thin blade.

Kora shook her head even before she'd accepted it and gave it back almost immediately. "No good. I'd wear myself out in minutes."

"Endurance is always important," Wakaba pontificated, taking a few practice jabs at a discarded dummy.

"I still think it'd be good," Aleccus said, returning the blade to its niche. "Great reach. Nice clean stabbing."

"I don't like stabbing." Kora picked up a short leaf-shaped blade and put it back down. "And I don't care if Salju says it's a more efficient way of killing. I don't like to think of killing as efficient." She discarded a rapier. "I like to think of it as necessary evil." Coming to the end of that row, she pulled out a sabre with a leather loop on the hilt. "This doesn't feel too bad."

"'Too bad?'" Wakaba repeated, landing a swift kick in the dummy's midsection. "Aren't you settling a bit low?"

Kora tested how much the blade bent. "I don't have the potch for a custom-made weapon."

Wakaba huffed. "I'm glad I don't buy _my_ weapons."

Kora handed the blade to Aleccus. "You know more about this than I do. What do you think?"

"It's not a bad make," Aleccus said after a minute's study. "If you're more careful than you, er, have been, it should last."

Kora laughed. "What a thought. Well, Salju says being careful comes with being skilled. I'm not sure I believe that, but..."

After paying for the sword, Kora and Wakaba abandoned Aleccus for the rest of the morning; he'd offered to keep them company, but Kora had sent him off with a stern look and a grimace. By noon, Wakaba had left, having to stay on schedule with a merchant caravan she'd attached herself to, promising to return the next time Master Chan sent her in Caleria's direction.

Kora sat in her room at the barracks, the sunlight cutting across her bed from the thin window. Her new sword lay on her knees, and she ran her fingers along the leather loop absently, feeling deflated. Wakaba's talk of adventures had left her unhappy; not that she, Kora, lacked adventures, places to travel to, strange sights to see. But she lacked Wakaba's freedom. Seeing Wakaba leave, not having to get permission from anyone, made her seem almost like a creature from another species.

_Aleccus,_ she thought, leaning back against the bedroom wall, _you need to free me sooner._

Sightlessly, her fingers traced the outlines of the bone hilt. After a moment, she realized her forefinger was smoothing over a groove. Straightening, she lifted the hilt-end to study it.

It was hard to see in the light, but a line of markings had been carved down one side of the hilt. Kora frowned, trying to make it out. There was a crescent... a semi-circle... a circle... and then the first two were repeated in reverse order. Oh. The phases of the moon. Kora rubbed the markings, mildly interested. So the swordsmith had been fanciful. After a moment, she realized that there was a carving above the waxing crescent, a circle whose surface had been deliberately left rough. It must be the new moon, the moon that was still too dark to be seen.

"New Moon," she murmured. "Luna Nueva."

* * *

Luna Nueva met with Haz's approval, albeit his curt approval. The captain had been more irritable lately, talking less on their missions and not singing at all. Kora wondered whether he was annoyed at her and Aleccus' engagement. She couldn't see why. Hazard had remained fond of her though the years and complimented Aleccus on his good taste, and she'd learned to trust him as a capable, though unpredictable, commander. She wondered if the stress of the mercenary life were finally wearing him down. 

A month before Kora's twenty-fourth birthday, Hazard announced that they were taking an assignment in the Grasslands. Kora sat up from her nearly-finished drink. Though she'd lived alongside the Grasslands for years, none of her missions had actually taken her into them.

"Lord Phaeton of - damn, I don't remember what he's lord of. Some shitty little fief up north." Haz took another gulp of ale. "Anyway, he wants us to go into Safir. Apparently they have turquoise there, also some herbs he's interested in. That's the cover story."

Kibosh crossed his arms. "What's the real job then?"

"His brother, Stanislas or something. He really owns the fief, and Phaeton was supposed to have killed him, naturally. Stan escaped. Phaeton's learned he might be living in Safir."

"And _we're_ going to kill him?" Kora demanded, ready to back right on out.

"That's what Phaeton wants us to do." Haz shrugged. "Word is Stanislas escaped with money. He'll probably hire us to double-cross Phaeton."

"All right," Kora said after a moment. She had fewer scruples when it came to double-crossing, as long as the victim had already shown himself to be deserving of it.

"Where is Safir, exactly?' Aleccus asked, rummaging through the unit's collection of maps. "It's one of the Grand Clans, right?"

"North, up in the mountains." Hazard kneaded the skin between his eyes. "Barely part of Grasslands at all. Near Cross Lake."

Aleccus spread a map on their table. Kora leaned over as Aleccus ran his finger up the painted ridge of mountains that separated Harmonia from the Grasslands. The Safir Clan lay protected in the center of the mountains, both by the high peaks and the several lakes surrounding Great Cross Lake. Idly, Kora's eyes moved up the map - and she tensed. She didn't know why she was surprised. She should've guessed. But it had been so long since she'd thought of it.

Not far to the north and east of Safir was the word _Sanadier_.

_Sanadier. Sanadia. Sanady._

As the others talked, Kora leaned forward over the map, taking in the painted forests, the whorls of the long, meandering rivers. In the trunk of the Great River that flowed south into Harmonia, Kora picked out a hastily-sketched island. It was unmarked, but she remembered its name: _Meymuna_.

An old gray mansion. The students, other children of Sanady whose parents had been killed in the takeover. Learning music and history and how Harmonia would forever be in charge of all their lives.

Grania.

"Two weeks, I think," Kibosh was saying. "With good travel. It's autumn, so I don't think we'll have to worry about mudslides..."

Kora signaled the barkeep for another drink. It was early in the day, but she suddenly needed it.

* * *

On the west slope of a mountain halfway between Caleria and Safir, Kora broke out of a tangle of dreams: Luca Blight, leading the Meymuna students through Reppu's filthy streets; Kolgrim, standing quiet and attentive at their wedding; Aleccus, stammering slightly, proposing; Grania, snared in the Harmonian slums. 

Kora rubbed her face, hitching her blanket back up over her shoulder. It wasn't quite dawn yet, the sky blue with bright pink glares scattered across the clouds. Aleccus, keeping watch, was a silhouette not far off.

Aleccus, she should be thinking about him, not Grania. Meymuna, Grania, even the Lebanon name itself were her past; Aleccus and freedom were her future.

Kora tightened herself into a ball, hiding her face under the blanket, not sure why she felt so guilty.

After a moment, she kicked the blanket off, stood and walked to Aleccus' side, leaning her shoulder against his for warmth. He shifted to put his arm around her, but she held up her hand wardingly. "It's all right."

His arm slackened at his side. "Can't sleep?"

She shrugged. "It's a mountainside. Not exactly comfortable." Aleccus picked up a small twig and began to shear off the bark with his thumbnail. Kora rubbed her arms, trying to think of something else to say. "I can't wait until we're married."

Aleccus looked up quickly and grinned. "Not much longer. If Dad's right and the brothers try to play off each other, we should be getting a hefty bonus." He turned the twig over in his hand, silent for a while. His next question startled her. "Do you have a family?"

"Family?" No one had ever asked about her past in Caleria. Kora had assumed no one ever would. "What do you mean? Of course I had parents. I don't have any kids if you're-"

"No - I was just curious." He looked across the mountainside. "Just realized that I don't know much about your past, that's all."

Kora chafed her arms again. "Does it really make a difference?"

He sighed. "I suppose not. If you don't want to talk about it."

Kora looked at her hands. It was a good opportunity, she knew it. She was the closest to Sanady she'd been in - how long? Ten years? Ten years since Kolgrim's death. Ten years since becoming a slave. Maybe Aleccus did need to know.

Maybe he didn't. Maybe the past was something they never had to talk about. Aleccus already loved her, without knowing her past.

"Look," she said after a moment, "is the past really that important? The future's what I'm looking forward to."

"Sure," he said flatly.

"Okay," Kora retorted, "tell me about _your_ past."

"I was born in Muse City," he answered. "In Dunan, back when it was Jowston. Dad moved us to L'Renouille when I was ten. When Mom died, we came north."

Kora tapped the toe of her left boot, knowing it was her turn. "I come from Crystal Valley," she said after a while. "I was a slave there." He could've guessed nearly that much on his own. But really, what good was talking about Sanady? It was nothing but a Harmonian puppet state. "I can't wait until we're married," she said again, quickly. "I want to get away from Caleria. Maybe permanently. I don't know if I'm really cut out for a merc life. I want to see more than just Harmonia."

"Mm," Aleccus said after a moment. Kora wasn't sure if it was in agreement or just acknowledgment.

Abruptly, she stood. "I'm going to try to get a bit more sleep." She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then headed back for the cold campfire.

* * *

There were Harmonian guards in Harmonian checkpoints almost to the edge of the Safir clan-grounds, which were surrounded by thick, quarry-stone walls. Kora also guessed that the Safir, despite culturally being at odds with Harmonia, also traded with the Empire; the clan's main industry was mining, but Kora noticed woolen clothing, dried fruit from orchards, wine from vineyards. She wondered what the other Grand Clans thought of that. 

Lord Phaeton had described his brother to Hazard, but after a day of casually searching the Safir Clan, they'd found no trace of Stanislas (or Stan, as Haz persisted in calling him), nor even of any man coming recently to live with the clan. Evening found them huddled around a table in the Miracle Pickax inn. Haz was not singing. In fact, he could barely get through three words without swearing. Kora listened to the talk at the other tables, some rumor of Barabarossa Rugner being sighted in Crystal Valley. Bored, she got up and made her way to the counter, where one of the maids, dressed in the loose trousers, high-necked blouse and head scarf traditional to Safir, raised her eyebrows.

"Hi." Kora smiled her best smile. "I was just curious." She gestured to the halves of a broken pickax hanging on the wall behind the barmaid. "Is it really a miracle pickax?"

The barmaid widened her eyes. "Why of course." She held up another drink. Kora took it, passed over some potch, and the barmaid continued. "It must have been forty five years ago, during the Great War. The Flame Champion himself was here."

"Okay."

"He had run up a huge tab, or so the legend says. And my grandfather had just come over to his table with the bill. He was planning to go to the mines in a minute, so he had his pickax." She smiled proudly. "The Flame Champion was delaying the payment of his bill, shilly-shallying most shamefully. I confess Grandpa was angry, even to the point of - nearly - threatening the Flame Champion. But suddenly there was a great commotion outside. Grandpa and the Fire Bringer rushed out of the inn. A Lizard had come from the Great Hollow, wanting to kill the Flame Champion and collect the bounty on his head, but he had been discovered. But he still fought. The villagers tried to restrain him. They'd taken his gride, but no one knew he had a thunder rune. In a moment, he'd thrown a spell at the Flame Champion's head. But then-" And there she stopped.

"And then?" Kora repeated, because it was her duty.

"And then, by the miraculous power of the True Fire Rune, Grandpa's pickax flew out of his hands and into the line of the thunder spell. And though it broke in two" - she gestured behind her head "-the spell was averted. And because of Grandpa's pickax, all of the Grasslands were saved."

Kora smiled, thanked her for the explanation, and privately wondered if there might have been _two_ people that day eager to get money from the Flame Champion. By any means possible.

The barmaid glanced over Kora's left shoulder. "Oh, excuse me. Yes, Stan, I'll be right there!"

It took all of Kora's court-drilled self-control not to whip around and see whom the barmaid had addressed. As the barmaid slipped around the counter, a tray of tankards balanced on her shoulder, Kora bent and smoothed an uncomfortable roll in one of the legs of her trousers. Straightening, she glanced behind her. The barmaid had stopped in front of table with three men, all looking to be Safir miners. Two of them showed dark hair under their scarves. The third's hair was lighter, an odd beige color Kora had never seen before. Squinting slightly, she saw that it was crinkled, a bit stiff. Had it been hastily died? She studied his face. His eyes were the clear blue of a Harmonian first class citizen.

Kora waited until the barmaid had moved past the three miners, then a few minutes more, before she wound her way around the tables back to the rest of the unit.

"I still don't know why you didn't take on Kreutz's kid," Kibosh was saying. "Duke's not a bad fighter."

Hazard grunted. "He's green as a pickle and too full of himself to take orders. He talks big, but I doubt he'll last long. I don't see why Jerome took him on. Hell, I don't see why Kreutz had to retire, he was a right old-"

Kora sat next to Aleccus. "I think Stanislas is here."

Haz blinked. "You have a lovely voice, Kora. Do say that again."

"I think he's here. Tell me, if you had Harmonian blond hair and mixed it with Papupili juice, do you think it might look like-" she gestured covertly to the three miners "-that?"

Hazard rubbed his bristly chin and glanced sidelong at Kibosh. "Up for an evening stroll?"

* * *

When the beige miner and his two friends left the inn for Safir's empty streets, the Forty-first unit closed around him instantly. With a nod from Hazard, Kibosh grabbed the two genuine Safirs and hauled them away, to be tied up so they couldn't bother business. 

Hazard leaned on his Raven's Beak. "I'd bow, your lordship, but I'm so drunk I'd fall over. You are his lordship, yes?"

"I - no -" the beige miner spluttered, glancing around. Kora and Aleccus had stepped in on either side.

Hazard clapped his arm. "Yes, an identity crisis is a terrible thing, but you shouldn't run away from it. If we dunked you into a trough and got that Papupili juice out of your hair, do you think it'd clear your head some."

Slowly, Stanislas loosened his collar, speaking with the delicate inflection of a terrified noble. "And...how much money do you want?"

Hazard inclined his head. "To do what exactly?"

"To relay to my brother that I am dead."

"Well, your brother has already given us an awful lot-"

Fire exploded in the middle of the street. Kora leapt back, her hip banging into the inn's porch railing. She couldn't see anything for a moment, light-blinded, so she continued to back away from the heat, mind spinning with questions. Was there an ambush? By whom? Blinking, she saw a jumble of dark figures, felt the ground nearby shaking with heavy footsteps - that would be Kibosh. The tip of the Raven's Beak sparkled in the night. There were people rushing out of the surrounding buildings. Stanislas was running, his head scarf undone, the image of a fire rune glowing brightly on his hand. Then he was lost in the mob.

Heart hammering, Kora pushed her way forward, unwilling to draw her sword in the tight crush, but wondering how she'd defend herself. Back to the front of the inn. The ground was clear there, scorched, burning ashes. Aleccus, one sleeve of his tunic burnt, was restraining a plump man from hitting another man with a rolling pin. The Raven's Beak was in a young man's hands; he held it warily, looking around, occasionally jerking it towards anyone who looked aggressive.

Hazard lay in the small clearing, his face burnt away.


	18. Chapter 18

Part Six: The River Dragon

* * *

18 

After nearly four decades of serving the frontier, Hazard the Long-Lived had gained many friends and enemies. When the Forty-first unit returned to Caleria in late autumn, weary, ragged, and lacking a captain, all of those friends and enemies came to ask why. Neither Kibosh nor Kora wanted to say anything about it. Aleccus became used to answering the questions and hearing, many times, that he would now be filling his father's shoes.

After a week, Kora told Joker some of the story over drinks, but none of the details. Not about how when Kibosh had returned with Stanislas captured and seen Hazard's body, he'd wordlessly turned and slit Stanislas's throat. She didn't talk about how she'd seen the big warrior cry when they buried Hazard outside of Safir. She didn't talk about how Aleccus seemed unable to look at either of them steadily.

"It's a sad thing," Joker said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically sincere. "That sort of old merc...you get used to thinking they'll always be around."

Kora didn't want to think of Hazard in the past tense. She put her tankard down rather hard. "_You're_ turning into an 'old merc'."

Joker cocked his head and nodded. "It happens to us lucky ones."

They received their promised payment from Lord Phaeton. That winter, the Forty-first Unit took no jobs abroad, contenting themselves with the lower-paying jobs near Caleria. Kora would have liked to get away from Caleria. When Kolgrim had died, she'd left Sanady. When she and Grania had parted, she'd left Crystal Valley. After a parting, she wasn't supposed to linger; she wanted to move on. At the same time, she found solace staying in her room or the apothecary, reading the books she'd managed to collect, staying away from Aleccus. He barely smiled any more, didn't talk about marrying, and she didn't want to see that. It wasn't until the landslide season, when the melting snow from the surrounding mountains put even warm Caleria in danger, that Aleccus smiled again when he saw Kora coming.

* * *

"You've contracted a job from Ledvig?" Kora asked, checking to make sure the wax sealing a jar of burn unguent was cool before setting it on a shelf for sale. 

"That's right." Aleccus sat in a chair a bit back from the apothecary counter. "He wants us to help guard a horse-line he's sending south to Gregminster. We'll see them as far as Rockaxe."

Pushing a long strand of hair over her ear, Kora smiled wryly. "You know how well we did there last time. But still, that's great news." This would be their first major job since Safir.

Light flickered in the apothecary's doorway as someone stepped in just as Kora finished labeling another jar. "Be with you in a minute." She turned quickly to Aleccus as she shelved the jar. "What's the pay?"

"Fifteen hundred straight up, fifteen hundred on completion."

Kora's smile widened. "Wonderful." She turned back to the counter. "What do you need?"

The customer was a stranger to her, a very tall man with shaggy black hair, a gaunt face and an eye-patch. New faces were usually new recruits, but this man had to be in his thirties; his worn black leather surcoat and longsword belied the idea he was new to the mercenary life. Maybe he'd transferred from the Northern Frontier.

"Willow bark, if you have it," he said.

Kora reached behind the counter and produced a pouch. As the customer gave her a hundred potch, she turned back to Aleccus. "Are you going to take Vance up on his offer? I think he's selling you a line."

Aleccus waited until the customer had left before answering. "I don't think so. I'm not so sure about his 'resurrection' magic, first off. That sounds like a hoax. Secondly..." He sighed. "Not sure the unit's ready for another member yet."

Kora tightened her lips. "Aleccus, I know you'd rather not, but three people is too small. We need a fourth member." She slid another jar towards herself to be labeled. "What about Joker? He's still freelancing."

"I thought you didn't like him."

"I'm not crazy about him, but I can work with him."

Aleccus rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll see about it."

Kora didn't see Aleccus for the rest of the day, and by evening, she'd told Sabda to watch the shop and gone down to the tavern. It was quiet, many of the units having already left now that the spring warmth had cleared the roads. She found Joker at his usual place along the bar, chewing thoughtfully over his plate of Snake Frog Liver.

Kora took the seat next to him and signaled for her usual. "Talked to Aleccus yet?"

Joker swallowed his mouthful. "Does he want to see me?"

"He does." Kora picked at her plate of roasted meat and couscous, wondering if the cook had given her dog again. "We're going campaigning, to Matilda. And we're in need of a fourth member."

Joker smiled and shook his head.

"What?"

"I tell you." He slurped up some liver. "After years of freelancing with hardly a decent offer, suddenly I'm hired twice in one day."

_"What?"_ Kora sat up. "You're already hired? Who?"

"New guy who just came in today. I suppose I hired him, having seniority, but it was his idea." He slugged his beer. "At least, I_ think_ it was his idea. Aleccus interested in hiring two people?"

"We can't budget that," Kora said irritably. "Two more is too expensive."

"Ah. You were depending on me."

Kora rolled her eyes and refused to confirm that. "Well, who is your partner?"

"He's called Geddoe. Big dark guy with an eyepatch."

"I think I saw him." Kora sipped her drink. "He looks old enough to be retiring from the merc business. What's he doing here?"

Joker shrugged. "Working. He's experienced. Met him at the ring with Salju, and Salju was going on and on about his fighting."

"Is he from the NFDF?"

"No." Joker picked something out of his teeth. "He said something about coming up through Matilda. Don't recognize his accent."

Kora sighed heavily. "Well, I hope you two will be very happy, especially because you, Joker, won't be getting _any_ of the purse for our next mission. And trust me, it's not bad."

Joker smiled at his Snake Frog Liver. "Life's nothing but a string of missed opportunities, isn't it?"

* * *

Within two months, it was summer, dry as a bone all throughout Caleria. Even the rims of the spigots were dry minutes after water had been pumped. Kora, back from a short mission she had done with Kibosh for a local merchant, had just finished washing her hair. Finger-combing the long, quickly-drying strands, she walked over to her bedroom window to grab her comb. She fumbled it, the comb jumped out of her hand, went spinning two stories to the ground - 

- right between the feet of a merc she'd never seen before.

He glanced up at her. She leaned out the window. "Sorry about that."

"No trouble," he said quickly, holding up a gloved hand. He had messy, drab brown hair, and though he didn't seem much older than she, his face was already developing lines. "No trouble at all, miss." He bent and picked up the comb. "I'll just bring this right up."

"Steal it's more likely," Kora muttered, backing away from the window and opening her door, intent on running him down if she had to. But to her surprise, she met the merc halfway down the barrack stairs.

His crinkled brown eyes lit up. He smiled and held the comb out. "For you."

"Well, thanks," Kora said, unable to keep herself from raising her eyebrows with surprise.

The merc crossed his arms, saying, not belligerently, "You thought I'd run off with it?"

Kora pocketed the comb. "It's money."

He shook his head. "Rough place this, when even a pretty woman like you has to be suspicious."

The stairway was narrow, and Kora shifted to turn away from him. "Thanks anyway."

His hand was on her arm. "Wait a minute." He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm new here. Mind showing me around?"

Kora pulled away. "Yes."

"Too suspicious," the man said. "It's not good to be like that, you know? Sure, times are tough, but-"

"I could make them tougher for you, if you don't leave."

The merc sighed and shook his head, backing away, though there was nothing hurried about it. "Your loss."

Just as she'd finished untangling her hair, there was a knock at the door. Kora went and got it, mentally rehearsing what she'd say if it were that merc again, but the open door revealed Kibosh, looking tired but no more grim than usual.

"What's up?"

"I'm looking for Aleccus. Seen him?"

Kora leaned her shoulder against the door frame, crossing her arms on her chest. "No. I think he's doing inventory. And he said something about scoping out new recruits." Kibosh nodded, thanked her and made to go, but Kora forestalled him. "Wait a minute." She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. "Could you do me a favor?"

He shrugged. "Hope so."

"Look, you know Aleccus better than I do. At this point, you probably know him better than anyone else."

Kibosh nodded. "But what can't you talk to him about?"

Kora opened her mouth, then sighed and shook her head. "You were supposed to let me ease into this." She studied the toes of her boots for a moment, then lifted her eyes to Kibosh's face. "I want to know how the money's looking."

"Are you concerned?"

Kora stalled by brushing several strands of hair away from her face. "I'm just wondering. Aleccus promised two years ago that he'd marry me when he was able to buy me, and..." She shrugged one shoulder. "You know."

"So you want me to sound him out about the money?"

"That's all."

Kibosh turned to go. "You could ask him yourself."

Kora smiled. "What, me? Be indelicate?"

* * *

Kora heard nothing conclusive about the money, which led her to believe that the unit was solvent, but Aleccus didn't yet have the money to buy her. Kora refused to pester him about it, much as she wanted to be out from under the Citadel's thumb. When she felt the questions pushing up her throat, she coped by leaving the others and spending time with only herself. 

In midsummer, she'd decided she'd finally saved enough to buy herself a wind rune; the cut the Citadel took from her earnings couldn't deny her everything, and Saahir, the local Rune Sage, had said she had an aptitude for the wind elemental. She went in the early morning, before the shop would be crowded, but was disappointed to see there was already a merc sitting at the counter.

"We'll be done in a minute," Saahir sing-songed, rubbing a salve onto the newly-interred rune on the merc's hand.

"No problem," Kora said, giving the merc a nod by way of greeting. "Duke."

The older merc, solidly built with light red hair, lifted his free hand nonchalantly. He was only an acquaintance, a freelancer whom Salju had called skilled but who hadn't had the experience to make a name for himself.

"Just about done," Saahir murmured, picking up Duke's hand and inspecting the back of it. "I'm not sure if lightning magic's where your talent lies, but if you want to try it, you're welcome to it. Sit over there and wait while the salve does its work. I'm not letting you out of here with an infection. Now then, Kora, sit here. You've had this done before, right?"

"Yes," Kora said, taking Duke's seat. "Several years ago."

"Fire rune, wasn't it? Not good at all."

"I was happy to get it off."

"Well, hopefully this will work out better. Willow bark or poppy juice?"

"Willow, thanks."

Saahir passed over several curls of bark, specially infused to make them suppress pain faster. Kora tucked them into her cheek and tried to ignore them for the time being. Plenty of time of grind them into a pulp when the affixing began.

Saahir glanced over. "How are you doing, Duke?"

"Fine, fine." He was studying the new rune on the back of his hand. "Tingles a bit."

"That's normal. You may also experience some discomfort during storms, but nothing debilitating. And if it twinges from time to time-"

Duke suddenly sucked in the air between his teeth and flapped his hand. "Yeah. Twinge."

"-that should go away as soon as your body adjusts to carrying a rune." Saahir placed a small, pale green globe on the counter, an unattached wind rune. "Now Kora, are you ready?"

Kora began working the willow in her teeth. "I'm ready to get this over with."

Saahir picked up a short dull blade, turned Kora's naked hand palm-downward, and began to cut into the back of her hand, his strong fingers closing around her wrist so she couldn't reflexively jerk back.

Kora looked away, repeating that she knew Saahir was a skilled rune sage, people got runes all the time, Saahir didn't need to cut deep enough to harm her hand, the blade _had_ to be dull so he'd do less damage, she had willow bark, wouldn't this feel a hell of a lot worse without the willow bark?

"So Duke," she said in an effort to distract herself, her voice shaking only slightly, "how's business?"

"Not bad." Duke experimentally prodded the back of his hand. "We got a job down in Chisha, we'll be leaving tomorrow."

Kora glanced at her hand. Saahir, very carefully, was carving out the sign of the wind rune from her skin. A fat, purple-red blood drop rolled down her wrist and she looked away again. "You and Nicolas, right? Any new recruits?"

"Damn, no." He snorted, eyes narrowing. "I thought we'd be done with this freelancing shit by now. How long does it take to get a unit here?"

"Varies." Kora hissed in pain while Saahir murmured something soothing.

"Good, good, good, nice and easy," Saahir said after a moment, though Kora didn't look at him until she heard him put the knife down. Even then, she kept her eyes on the wall over his shoulder, trying not to notice her blood-glimmering hand. "We're done with that part." He took the wind rune between his two hands and raised it, chanting something in Sindar under his breath. Kora was in too much pain to translate, even with all the Sindar she'd forgotten over the past five years.

Warmth touched her face. The globular rune was glowing, melting between Saahir's hands. He positioned it over Kora's wound, and a thick, pale green liquid dripped into her blood, stinging. After a moment, Saahir put his hands over hers.

Kora closed her eyes, trying to close her mind to the discomfort. The back of her mind was itching, sending half-formed images of wind beating against trees, her own lungs expanding and contracting. All runes had their knowledge, their existence beyond their human hosts. This rune, a faint shadow of the True Wind Rune, passed its knowledge of wind to her. It wasn't great power, but it was more than she would have known alone. Kora couldn't imagine the weight of knowledge that would accompany being the vessel of a True Rune, nor the wealth of power. She wondered how much it would hurt, or if it would hurt at all.

"All right." Saahir sighed, sounding tired. Kora opened her eyes. The rune now glowed green and bloodless, cool against her skin. Saahir dipped his fingers into a large jar and began smoothing salve across the rune. "Still okay there, Duke? No pus?"

"Don't see any. How much longer do I have to sit here?"

"Just a bit."

"You know, Duke," Kora said, "if you want extra work, Aleccus might hire you on a job-by-job basis. We only have three members in the Forty-first, and that isn't enough."

But Duke was already shaking his head. "Nope. Me _and_ Nicolas or nothing at all. Besides." He lifted the left corner of his mouth in a half-smile. "I'm not here to take orders from anyone. If Aleccus wants to take orders from me - AGH!"

Saahir swiveled around as Duke leapt into the air, clutching his right hand with its suddenly glowing lightning rune.

"Agh - damn it - DAMN!"

Cords of lighting arched over his hand, snapping like serpents.

"Gone - crazy like-"

"This shouldn't be happening-" from Saahir.

Kora glanced out the shop's open front door to see if any help were nearby. The only people she saw were at the far end of the compound, Joker and his one-eyed partner. She considered calling out to them, but they stepped into the smithy and out of sight.

"Agh - ugh!" Duke suddenly slumpped, sweat rolling down his face, chest heaving like a bellows. "What - the - hell?" He still gripped his right hand, but it had gone slack, the rune dark, the flares of electricity gone.

Saahir hovered over him. "I can't imagine what-" He glanced out the window.

"What do you mean you can't imagine what?" Duke panted. "You're the damn rune sage!"

Saahir was still staring out the window, at the clear blue sky. "Sometimes, when a person has just acquired a rune and it still hasn't entirely integrated with his body and a thunder storm occurs, the rune can react violently. Lightning runes, like fire runes, are a bit unstable, you know."

"Hell yeah! Especially on _a clear day like this_?"

"Perhaps..." Saahir moved back to the counter. "Perhaps a water rune is more to your liking."

"Argh, you wanna drown me next!" Duke smacked his right hand against his thigh. "It's gone numb."

"Give it time." Saahir re-seated himself. "It should stabilize." He picked up Kora's hand to examine it.

"So..." Kora said, "when a high wind kicks up, is it going to rip my arm from my body?"

"It should be fine," Saahir said, though he kept glancing at Duke. "It's probably that Duke isn't suited for lightning magic."

"Like hell!" from Duke.

"You should be fine," Saahir clipped. "I'll give you some more salve. Use it every night for two weeks-"

"How much potch to get this damn thing off?" Duke interrupted.

* * *

"It's not an easy lifestyle for a woman," Joker was telling the big-eyed blonde girl, her leather armor still crisp from disuse. "And it seems to me, you'll want someone to look after you, and I'm part of this nice little unit that needs-" 

Kora stood from her place at the bar, walked over to Joker's corner, and tapped the girl on her shoulder. "New recruit?"

The girl jumped, one hand coming up to smooth her hair. "Ah...yeah. Mister Joker was just telling me what I should do to get signed up."

Kora gave Joker a sweet smile but addressed the girl. "Mister Joker's a very busy man, what with taking care of all the female recruits who show up here. Listen, you'll want to get on Main Street, then head all the way down to the large building in back. They'll tell you all you need to know there."

When the girl mercenary had left, Kora was confronted with Joker's narrow-eyed glare. "Damn helpful of you."

"Well, it's just a little disturbing the way you latch onto girls half..._less_ than half your age."

"I don't remember you complaining."

Kora blinked and narrowed her own eyes. "You've hit your head recently, right? You didn't really mean that, did you?"

Joker crossed his arms. "Facts are facts, I kept you from starving."

Kora quickly reverted to the previous subject. "So what were you doing? Trying to recruit her or hoping for an easy lay? Female mercs have problems enough without lecherous old-"

Joker shrugged and waved his hand in a "yes, yes" sort of way. "I won't deny our unit needs recruits. Three people-"

"-is too few," Kora finished, mindful of how often she'd said it herself. Then his words registered. "Three people? You hired a new member?" She didn't quite manage not to sound resentful. "Who'd you find worth hiring that our unit hasn't?"

"He doesn't come from Caleria." Joker moved past her, intent on the bar.

"Figures. Oh - before you're sloshed - have you seen Aleccus?"

Joker signaled for a drink. "Nope. Why?"

"No real reason." Kora considered it a moment. "I just haven't seen him much lately."

Kora almost didn't catch Joker's raised eyebrow. "With your pleasant personality, who could blame him?"

"Oh hell," the bartender said a moment later. "You really going to pay for that drink, eh, Kora? And the mug?"

"And my bandages?" Joker demanded, rubbing his forehead.

After paying for the drink and the mug, Kora set off in search of Aleccus. She passed the Bujutsu ring where Salju and Elaine were training - ducked away faster than she would have ever admitted - and circled around behind the smithy. Stepping inside, she noticed Aleccus and an older man talking in the corner. Approaching, she caught the tail-end of Aleccus' words. "...a fair cut out of each job you join in on. So how about it?"

The older man was a merc she'd seen occasionally, a big guy with a battle ax. "I'll think about it." He turned away.

Aleccus grimaced, obviously displeased the interview hadn't concluded with a straight "Oh yes! Gladly!" and moved to leave. Then he caught sight of Kora and grimaced again.

Kora frowned. "What's wrong?"

Aleccus shrugged and didn't say anything until they were out of the smithy. "Why is it, in a town full of mercs, we can't find a fourth member?"

"Some would say it's fate." Kora smiled, but he didn't join in on the joke. "Hey, don't worry," she amended, "I'm sure we'll find someone. And then - voila! Offers will be spilling in, we'll have tons of money, and you can finally buy me."

Aleccus sighed abruptly.

Kora crossed her arms. "Look, Aleccus, bad moods I can handle, but bad moods that don't even try to get anywhere are just-"

Aleccus stopped walking and swung around to face her, his mouth and eyebrows tense. "Why do you want to marry me?"

"What?"

Aleccus didn't budge. "Do I have to ask again?"

"Because I love you, of course," Kora snapped.

"I'm not so sure." Aleccus turned and began walking again. Kora lengthened her strides to catch up. "Because sometimes it seems you're more in love with you're freedom."

"Well - damn, I'm a slave. Can't you understand that?" He wasn't looking at her. "And I _do _love you." They were heading for the front gate, catching the attention of the many vendors and mercenaries who congregated there.

"But you insist on me buying you before we get married?" Aleccus laughed. "You really need an incentive."

Pressing her lips together, Kora sidestepped in front of him, bringing him up short. Trying to ignore her blaze of indignation, she worked to keep her voice calm. "What's happened? This didn't bother you two years ago, when you proposed. It's not like I've sprung this on you."

Aleccus glanced at her, then past her. "I've had to do a lot of thinking lately, what with Dad's... And I've realized." He shook his head. "You're a good person, Kora. And maybe you don't even realize it, but I think you're using me."

The blaze was burning away Kora's composure. "_What?_ How can you - you think I-"

Aleccus shook his head again. "You said it yourself, it's like weapons. You settle for the best you can get."

"I didn't mean_ you_! I can't believe you think I'm a-"

He held up his hand, trying to silence her.

_You promised me!_ Kora almost shouted. _You promised you'd save me. _But now she knew enough not to say it.

He walked away from her.

* * *

Kora wasn't surprised when Kibosh arrived at her room later. "Aleccus sent you to pick up the pieces?" 

"Aleccus didn't send me at all." Kora had invited him to sit on her bed, but he stood at attention while Kora paced the small confines of her room, as she'd done all afternoon. "But he told me. So now what?"

Kora knew what he meant, but she wasn't going to make things easy for him. "What are you talking about?"

"Is the Forty-first going to lose another member?"

Kora stopped at the far corner of the room and turned to face him. Her words came out brittle and too fast, as much as she tried to rein them back. "A unit only holds together when all the members can work together."

"So you can't work with Aleccus anymore?"

Kora looked away. "He thinks I'm a - He backed out of _his_ promise. So I think I'm justified in backing out too."

"It's your decision," Kibosh said. "If you go back to freelancing, you won't get as much potch." He hesitated a moment. "I'll be sad to see you go. You aren't a bad fighter, and you're improving."

"You're a good comrade too," Kora said softly. "And I suppose you'll be staying with Aleccus?"

"Of course."

Kora sighed. "Of course."

* * *

Kora had been freelancing - that is, working in the apothecary - for two weeks when she next ran into Joker. He stepped into the apothecary, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. "Wait just a minute. Drake at the tavern told me the Forty-first was on mission in the Grasslands. What are you doing here?" 

Two weeks of explaining circumstances to those who asked had left Kora resigned. "I'm not in the unit anymore."

Joker didn't lower his eyebrows, at least not for a long moment. He'd known about the engagement.

Kora gestured to the shelves of potions. "Do you want anything?"

"Sure," Joker said presently. "Some basic medicine. We ran out of them in the east. Just got back, in fact."

"Was it a good job?" Kora asked to pass the time while she hunted up the medicine.

"Not bad. The new guy's working out pretty well, though he's got a smart lip. Say..." Joker leaned over the counter. "You're freelancing again, right?"

Kora's eyes widened with anger, then narrowed. "Oh cute. So the moment I'm not in a unit anymore, I'm free game for any old lech to-"

Joker regarded her dubiously. "The captain's looking for recruits, you know. I wouldn't pass this up."

Kora lobbed the medicine at him. "I like to think I have higher standards than an old boozer who-"

"You were willing enough to join Hazard's unit sight unseen."

"Shut up about Hazard's unit!"

"All I'm saying is it might not be a bad idea." Joker handed over the potch for the medicine. "There are only three of us in the Twelfth Unit, and three is just-"

Kora glared down at the counter. "-too few."


	19. Chapter 19

19

"I think this is going to go well," Joker said three mornings later, rubbing his hands together and bouncing a bit as he walked.

Every sign of cheerfulness Joker displayed made Kora all the more uncomfortable. "What do you mean? You haven't been overselling me, have you? I'm not exactly a champion fighter."

"No, no," he said, waving his hand negligently.

"And your captain's really going to hire me sight-unseen for a job?"

"Why not? He's pretty easy-going."

"And he knows I'm a slave?"

"I'm sure he's already got it squared away with the Citadel."

"And you're how drunk?"

Joker stopped walking and his smile relaxed into a frown. "You really can't thank anyone when they've done something nice for you."

Anger bolted through Kora; somehow, his criticism reminded her of Aleccus. "I'll thank you after I see how this goes."

It was still early in the morning, even Caleria's dry streets retaining some of the night's coolness. The two mercenaries dodged around large merchant wagons trundling down the middle of the streets, early shoppers, a line of camels from the east, four guards escorting a veiled courtesan in a litter.

"I'm a bit surprised your captain already has another job lined up," Kora murmured as they passed the fountain. "Don't you guys ever rest?"

Joker shrugged. "I've worked more in the last few months than I did all last year. The captain just has a knack for landing jobs, I guess."

Kora ducked around a man with a long line of dried fish balanced across his shoulders. If this were Rockaxe, where the sales of goods were strictly regulated, she might wonder if Captain Geddoe were in on the drug market; however, in Caleria, the sale of everything from opera glasses to child prostitutes was aboveboard, unless it was an import. "Is he in the black market?"

Joker waved to a group of Kobold slaves who were repairing the side of someone's house; one waved back. "Hides it well if he is. And - there we are."

Rounding the corner of the Spear and Head, Kora noticed Captain Geddoe in the distance, conferring with a merchant. In the foreground, she recognized-

"Well, what do you know?" the merc said, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against. "It's the comb woman!"

"'Comb woman'?" Joker looked between the two of them. "What, Ace, you aren't serious? She's one of _yours_?"

"What?" Kora snapped, turning to Joker. "I am not _anyone's_-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the one called Ace broke in, hands held up soothingly. "Calm down. I'm just saying I had the pleasure of returning this lovely lady's comb to her the other day."

Kora pointedly didn't return his smile. "Your name's Ace?" She looked at Joker. "That's coincidental."

"Alias Ace." Ace crossed his arms. "I figured the old man had a good idea, so why not make a theme?"

"I told you not to start up with the 'old man' stuff," Joker broke in.

"I mean, I wanted to be called King, but they wouldn't go for it." Ace's mood soured a moment. "And I'm too famous under my real name." When Kora didn't ask what it was, he added, "Erk de Forever."

"I'll believe that's your real name when I see your family tree," Joker retorted.

Ace swung to face Joker. "Still don't believe me, huh? Who'd know better, you or me?"

"I think any imbecile with half a brain can tell you're nothing but a-"

"I'll have you know my name is known in the right parts! I fought during the Unification of Dunan-"

"-a mallard duck with his head full of crap-"

"-saw Riou Genkaku with my own eyes, lived through the same battles as Luca Blight-"

"-that's so heavy he can't even lift his big head off the ground-"

"-have had poetry published _twice_ in the Vinay del Zexay gazette-"

"So this is the new recruit," said Captain Geddoe.

Joker and Ace jerked around to face their captain, Joker turning the movement into an inviting flourish. "Here she is, captain."

"I'm Kora."

Since her early childhood, she'd been taught by Grania to pay more attention to what people did rather than what they said. In court, she knew everyone wore a mask, a mask of frivolity, indifference or enthusiasm. But their choice of mask could mean everything. She'd found Grania's teaching had served her in Caleria as well, where secrets and half-told stories could be necessities. Some mercenaries covered their secrets by bluster, others by friendliness, others with a wall of bother-me-and-die hostility.

Captain Geddoe nodded, his face revealing nothing.

"Nice name," Ace said, stepping closer to her, hands in his pockets.

Kora lifted her chin, not looking at Ace, glancing instead at Joker. He was no help, watching Ace with raised eyebrows. She mentally took a deep breath, uneasy at the lack of non-verbal cues. "So, are we going somewhere?"

"Yep," Ace said, practically in her ear. (Careful to make it unhurried, she took a step away from him.) "We've been sent to some town in the east...uh, Resedan, I think it's called. Our client wants some Azure Mignonette, and he wants it without the help of a merchant."

Kora glanced over her shoulder, but nobody seemed to be paying them any attention. "You mean Blue Bastard Rocket?" She looked at Captain Geddoe out of the corner of her eyes. "You know people tend to mix that in poisons? It covers the taste."

Ace had stepped back to her elbow. "It's also considered an aphrodisiac."

Joker snorted. "I'm sure you know all about that."

Ace whirled and jabbed a finger in Joker's chest. "I'll have you know I-"

The captain had turned and was walking towards the south gate. Kora glanced at him, glanced at the squabbling Joker and Ace, then followed the captain. He didn't turn, though he must have heard her walking behind him. After a moment, there was the sound of footsteps, some puffs of dust, and the other two had caught up, still glaring at each other.

They took the first fork east, up a path that wound through the rough-cut mountains. Kora knew the mountain range wasn't thick to the east, and she looked forward to the cool grassy plains and forests that, according to maps, lay beyond.

When Ace had jogged forward to say something to the captain, Kora jerked her chin at Joker. Raising his eyebrows again, he sauntered over to her. Kora kept her voice low, using Ace's chatter as a cover. "So, have you roped me into helping our client poison someone?"

Joker whistled. "You're too uptight. Blue Bastard Rocket doesn't have to cover poison. It has other uses."

Kora tightened her lips and didn't answer.

"Your problem has always been-" Joker stretched one arm and rotated his shoulder "-that you think the worst of people. You need to be an optimist. Like me."

"When was the last time your optimism was justified?"

Joker narrowed his eyes, then lengthened his stride. "All right if I do some scouting ahead, captain?"

By the time Joker was out of sight, Ace had fallen back slightly, shaking his head. "Hmph. Scouting. That old boozer isn't good for anything."

Kora had an impulse to disagree, just to be contrary, but she reigned it in. The sooner she was able to get along with her companions, the smoother the job would go. "So, you fought against the Dunan Army? What was that like?"

He flashed her a smile. "We didn't fight against them for long. Old Captain Gilbert got soft-talked into joining Dunan's side." He looked casually across the mountainside. "So you could say I was in thick of things from early on."

"Don't try to impress me," Kora muttered.

"Yep. A real mainstay of the army. In fact, I helped keep the troops in shape." He waited for her to say something, then went on. "Devised a rope-climbing game all by myself. Very difficult. Drew in a pretty profit too." When she didn't say anything, he leaned towards her. "Would you believe that I saw Lord Shu score two and a half minutes on it?"

"No."

He leaned back. "Well, I'm the one in a position to know, aren't I?"

The harsh mountain soon melted into dense forest land, cut by well-maintained roads. These were guarded, the traffic once deadlocked by a checkpoint. Kora had steeled herself to having to show her tattoo - a demand she'd never reconciled herself to - but they let the team pass with minimal fuss. When she asked Joker about it, he said they'd been down there earlier this year, and maybe the guards recognized them.

"Which means you're bribing the guards?"

He shrugged. "I'm not bribing anyone."

"It's because of our cheerful open faces," Ace called over his shoulder. "They can't help but love us. Right, boss?"

Geddoe half-turned back. "Could be."

They reached a wayfarers' hostel by sunset, one of many resting areas placed a day's ride apart, common in Harmonia's interior. There was a lean-to that provided rough stabling for two grazing horses, a cold outdoor forge with a sign reading "Blacksmith Three Miles South" and a single-room longhouse.

"Not too crowded," Ace commented when they stepped in. It was dark, a circular hole in the center of the roof providing light. Another group of travelers had built a fire underneath it. "What do you think, boss? Go make friends?"

Geddoe had selected a bunk near the door, sitting down on its edge. "Do as you like." Ace and Joker strolled right over. Kora followed after a moment, noticing that Geddoe was watching them.

"Really," a female voice was saying as Kora approached; the accent was similar to Crystal Valley's, and she suppressed a shudder. "Really, that's enough of you. Tyrone, Hubert, drive them away!"

Kora now had a clear view of the tableau. Two women, one old, one young, sat by the fire, dressed in the dark riding habits of well-to-do middle class women. On the other side of the fire were two swordsmen, their only attempts at distinction being red armbands monogrammed with some family's initials. Bodyguards obviously, though they were eyeing Joker and Ace with more wariness than hostility.

Ace held up his hands. "Now, now. This isn't a private suite in an inn. There's one fire, and we can all get along."

The older lady choked up on her riding crop. "Young man, you will back away at once. Tyrone! Hubert!"

The younger lady, who had been eyeing Ace from under her long blonde lashes, put her hand on the other's arm. "Now, now, Mumsy, we mustn't be mean. This place is open to everyone. It'll be nice to have company."

Ace smiled back at her. "We mean you no harm, trust me." Mumsy sniffed and looked away. Ace and Joker took that as their invitation to sit, Ace next to the daughter, Joker next to Hubert. Kora remained standing, stepping slightly out of the circle of light to avoid drawing attention to herself.

"My name's Adora," the younger woman was saying.

"Nice name," Ace replied. "I'm Ace."

"Hm?" She arched her eyebrows. "And what does Ace do?"

"Ace is one hell of a mercenary." Adora's hand flew to her mouth, theatrically shocked by the language. "Yep. A professional badass. I pay my way with my lifeblood."

"And get it spilled often enough," Joker commented.

Ace cleared his throat, hard. "Well, my lady, I didn't take the job because it was easy."

Adora kept her hand on her mouth, as if trying to hide her smile. "My lady!" She giggled. "I'm not a lady! My father's the head priest of Marid."

Ace brought his hand to his heart. "Ah, but you have the smile of a lady."

Kora glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she should just pick a bunk and try to sleep.

"If I were a lady, I'd have to slap you for that."

"I couldn't have you hurt your hand." Ace leaned towards her.

Rolling her eyes, Kora left the fire, choosing a bunk close to the entrance. She glanced towards the bunk she'd seen Geddoe choose, but she couldn't distinguish him in the shadows. "I'll take first watch."

"All right," came his voice.

* * *

In the morning, Kora was rattled awake by Mumsy loudly demanding to know where Adora was. Kora raised herself from the bunk, automatically finger-combing her hair. Across the corridor, she could see Joker rolling over in his own bunk, swearing.

Mumsy charged towards her, her habit rumpled from sleep. "Well? Where is she?"

"She didn't leave on my watch. Joker?"

"Mphlmhmphm," he said into his bent arm. Then he rolled over and sat up, eyes still closed. "No."

Kora swung her legs over the side of the bunk and stood. From here she could see Geddoe leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and his eye closed. After a moment, she thought she saw him sigh.

Joker yawned, his mouth taking up the rest of his face. "Last watch was...Ace's, right?"

"This isn't exactly a huge mystery," Kora said.

Joker stretched and turned to Mumsy. "Have your flunkies scour the forest. I'm sure Ace will have a very interesting and embarrassing story when you find him."

"Morning, boss," said a soft voice from beyond the doorway. Geddoe's eye flicked open and he turned. "Shush, don't make a fuss! Just wanna sneak in before everyone else is awake." A shadow slipped across him. "Now come on, all quiet-like." Ace stepped into the doorway, looking back at Adora, whom he lead by the hand.

Geddoe cleared his throat. But before he could say anything, Mumsy reeled back and commenced whaling on Ace with her riding crop.

When the sound of hoofbeats had died away, Ace uncovered his head and glanced up, still crouching on the floor. "Erm..."

Joker narrowed his eyes. "Well _that_ was very intelligent."

Ace sprung up. "Hey! Don't you start on me, you dirty old goat! Like you can preach to anyone."

"At least I'm not dumb enough to try anything in front of a girl's _mother_!"

Geddoe cleared his throat again.

"Uh-" Ace's attention flickered irresolutely between Joker and Geddoe, then he scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry 'bout that, boss."

"Don't let it happen again. Let's move out."

As they all turned to follow, Joker punched Ace's arm. "That's right, listen to the captain. Sex girls up on _other_ people's watch."

When they'd been walking for several minutes, Geddoe ahead of them, Joker turned back to Ace. "So, about last night-"

Ace grinned ear to ear.

"Actually, I meant to ask how you got away."

"It was on his watch," Kora said, giving Ace a withering look.

"Nah, nah." Joker waved his hand. "You don't get it. The captain barely sleeps. Did he just let you walk off with the girl?"

"He barely sleeps?" Kora asked just as Ace answered, "I didn't see him. Dunno where he was, he wasn't in his bunk."

"Hm." Joker raised his eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder. "Okay. So, about last night..."

Kora lengthened her strides to get out of easy hearing range. This brought her abreast of Geddoe. She was on his blind side, so he had to turn his entire head to look at her. Kora didn't return the look at first. "I'm not making conversation. Just wanted to get away."

Geddoe glanced back and didn't seem to require explanation.

* * *

That evening, Kora watched the rain vein the window. She was alone in the inn room. Geddoe and Joker had been below in the common room last she'd seen, and Ace had run off to see if Resedan had a lottery stand. The Azure Mignonette lay dry in a pouch in Geddoe's pocket, procured easily from the market for a price their client would be happy with. She doubted they'd be in Resedan for even twenty-four hours.

Then back to Caleria.

She pushed away from the windowsill, pacing the length of the small room, her heels sounding too loud on the wooden boards. She took a deep breath and let it go, trying to release the anxiety that buzzed in her stomach. Why not? Honestly, why not? She didn't have a reason to put it off anymore.

She kicked out her bedroll in a single smooth motion, then paused. She'd learned how to do that from Aleccus.

She lay on her side, the Luna Nueva stretched next to her. She didn't think they'd try anything. Geddoe didn't seem the type, and Joker had better be smarter than that. As for Ace, if he needed a lesson, he'd learn it fast. She closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep if only to pass the time.

Kora was still awake when Joker dragged himself up, flopping into his own bedroll. And she was still awake when Ace drifted in, stumbling slightly, probably still feeling the punishment he'd received from Mumsy. Kora waited, but there was no sign of Geddoe. So he didn't sleep much? She tried to listen over the rain for any sounds from below, then quietly rolled into a sitting position. He hadn't stuck around last night. Maybe that was typical.

Ace's snores covered any noise she might have made bundling up her bedroll. She breathed evenly, calling on the façade of calmness Grania had drilled into her. She walked slowly across the room, eased the door open, stepped through and eased it closed again. She crept to the balcony that overlooked the common room, barely able to make out the shapes of tables and chairs in the darkness.

This wouldn't be fun. Dark, rainy and unknown territory. Oh well. She couldn't hand-pick her chances. Kora made her cautious way down the stairs, feeling along the wall. There had been a back door near the stairs, she'd made a special note of it.

Then she had that feeling. That unmistakable, physical feeling she was being watched. She waited at the foot of the staircase, one hand grasping the railing. Silently she placed her bedroll and haversack at her feet, then raised her right hand. The wind rune breathed a pale green glow. There was an answering green flash from the far end of the room. She made her way toward it, composing herself as she went. He'd heard her, that's all. He hadn't seen the haversack.

"Oh, a lightning rune." She nodded at the light emanating from his left hand. "That's nice."

Geddoe looked up at her from his seat, a glass of something dark by his right hand. "Going somewhere?"

She smiled, very precisely. "Maybe I was looking for you."

He stared back. She didn't need a raised eyebrow to know he didn't believe her. After a moment, he took a drink from his glass. "Suit yourself."

She cocked her head. "I intend to." Then the court-trained smile was back. "I don't think Ace is going to stop snoring anytime soon. May as well try to go to sleep. Night." She walked away, brisk but not hurried, putting out her rune before she got to the stairs and retrieved her gear. By the time she was halfway up the stairs, Geddoe's rune had also gone out.

* * *

It was the right decision, she told herself. It had been too dark last night, she probably would've gotten herself killed if she'd made a run for it. She jerked her swordbelt on with unnecessary force. But of course Geddoe had seen her try. There went her chances of being hired again.

Ace rolled over and belched loudly. Maybe that wasn't such a terrible thing.

When it came down it, she'd been caught. Even if he'd let her go, she didn't want to escape with people knowing about it, pitying her.

Kora was braced for the captain to remark on their meeting last night, but he remained silent when she came down, followed by the others. Ace flung himself into a chair, thumping his elbows on the table. "So, boss, we heading back or lazing around for a day? I bet our client's not expecting us back so soon."

Joker leaned on the table. "How 'bout it, captain? It's a nice change of scenery. We get pretty sick of Caleria."

"Caleria?" said a voice at the next table. Turning, they saw several local men watching them. The one who had spoken had a broadsword on his hip. "Hmph, scamper back home, border dogs."

Ace's eyes widened, then he laughed. "Aw, he's trying to be funny."

The man drummed his gloved fingers against the table, just once. "You heard me, border bitches. Guarding the merchants' caravans and working the nobles is our job. Get back to getting yourselves killed in Matilda."

Ace shrugged. "Hey, it's not our fault everyone wants to hire us." Kora noticed Joker kick Ace under the table. Ace kicked back, hard. "We just do it better than you slobs."

Predictably, the others vacated their chairs, their leader putting his hand to swordhilt. "Shove the hell out! You're all a bunch of murderers and whores!"

One of the men was on Kora before she'd finished drawing sword, so she hit him in the stomach with the scabbard, knocking him back. Freeing the sabre, she hit him again with the pommel, throwing him against another table, reversing her swing to smack him with the flat of her blade. He toppled between the table and his chair, holding up his hands in surrender. She angled the tip of her sword against his chest, then glanced to see how the others were doing.

One of the men had flopped across their table, a large red bump rising on his forehead. Joker beat out a short tattoo on the table with his knuckles, grinning down. Just as she turned, Geddoe knocked out his assailant with a blow from his pommel. After another second, Ace caught the leader's sword in his left sai, twisting his wrist to break the blade. He then rammed the back of the right into the man's stomach. The leader doubled over, sliding to the floor.

Geddoe sheathed his sword. "Let's not laze around."


	20. Chapter 20

20

"Okay." Kora rubbed her forehead. "Just how exactly did this happen?"

"There was this rune sage," the man said. His voice trailed off, and he gestured to the rune shard up his nose.

"A pretty rune sage?"

"Eh..." He raised his shoulders. "Passably." He dabbed at the blood dribbling out of his nostril. "I just...was sorta...friendly, and...do you have anything to stop the flow?"

"The doctor will be in after lunch, when he's back from Scarlet Street." Kora shouldn't have enjoyed seeing the man fidget uncomfortably, but part of her did. "In the meantime, I suggest you visit our rune sage."

"No rune sage," the man muttered. "No more rune sages."

"Our rune sage is neither young nor pretty nor female. In any case, I can't help you until you've gotten rid of that thing."

The man sighed and slumped. "I'd hoped I wouldn't have to bring this to a rune sage's attention. It's kind of...demeaning."

"No doubt." Kora rested her chin in her palm, leaning against the counter. "Out of curiosity, what kind of rune is that?"

He dabbed at his nose again. "Lightning. I'm glad we aren't in the stormy season." He sniffed hard. "So, you really think your rune sage will be able to - AGH!" Sparks shot out of his afflicted nostril and his short blond hair jumped on end. Kora braced herself to run for the rune sage, but after a moment, the sparks subsided.

Kora swallowed. "The rune sage is just across the compound."

"Thanks." The man trotted out, stuffing his nostril with his handkerchief.

Kora went back to sorting through her money ledger, until, a moment later, someone stepped in. She looked up. "Hey. Need something?" She hadn't spoken to Geddoe for three weeks, since the conclusion of the Resedan trip, though she'd seen him around.

He didn't smile, but there was nothing hostile in his tone. "Interested in taking another job?"

She hesitated, wondering if she should bring up the fact that she'd tried to escape during his watch. She frowned. Was he going to try to use that against her somehow? "Where to?"

"East again, near the Matilda border. We're escorting a priest to his next assignment."

She knew without inquiring that would pay decently. And he'd come to ask her personally. That could be complimentary or threatening.

Whichever, there would be potch. And she had no definite reason not to take him at his word. "Why not?"

* * *

Escorting the priest to Telbor was a three day trek but one that went smoothly. The priest insisted on stopping at every rustic shrine they passed, and though it slowed them down, maybe it offered them protection from the True Runes. Telbor was a small, ramshackle town, and when they arrived, it was half empty. They received the balance of their payment and parted ways with the priest, he heading for the shrine, they for the inn.

The innkeeper started when he saw them. "I didn't expect anyone to be _coming_ here."

"What's going on?" Geddoe asked, dropping some potch on the counter.

"Bit of a tizzy." The innkeeper swept the coins up. "Would you like to see your room now? No? Then sit, sit. All right - oh, yes. Everyone's headed for Altalo. South of here, yes. The cavalcade's passing near there."

"Cavalcade?" Kora asked, accepting a glass of beer from Joker, who was pouring for everyone. "Is there a battle?"

"Hopefully not." The innkeeper scrubbed his hands on his apron. "It's the Harmonian ambassadors to Dunan. They're stopping in Rockaxe on their way south, trying to establish..." He gestured vaguely. "Goodwill, I suppose." That, in Kora's opinion, would be an interesting visit. "Anyway, they'll probably be passing through today, so everyone's rushed off to see them. I'm afraid we don't see many celebrities down here. Lord Adelstan's going to be there, so is Bishop Theophani. There are going to be three of the high families, the Vergilts, the Waldwyrds and the Redtheffs. And there will be a Silverberg and one of the Latkjes."

"Sorry about that," Kora said, mopping up her spilled drink._ I'd...heard all of the Latkjes were killed by the Temple Faction, _she wanted to ask, desperately. But she'd already drawn attention to herself.

_Most of the Latkjes did die,_ she told herself. _Which means..._

Later, she found Geddoe walking away from the trading stand, a prickly red fruit in his hand. She watched him several moments, unseen by him, then took a deep breath and started forward. "Captain." He stopped. She made her smile come easily. "Mind cutting me loose for the day?"

He raised his eyebrow.

"I'm interested in seeing the cavalcade. It's not often I'll see so many famous people in one place."

He watched her for a moment. "And then what?"

Kora's smile faltered. Amazingly, she hadn't thought of it, but there it was. He thought she was using the cavalcade as an excuse to run. She was too struck by the idea to answer, just staring at him.

Geddoe reached into his surcoat. "Here." He dropped her cut of the pay into her palm, the coins clinking together.

"I-" Kora glanced from the coins to him. "Thanks."

"Good luck." He turned and walked past her.

* * *

The road to Altalo, having been traveled so often lately, was easy to find, so Kora made good time. She barely registered the countryside, her attention turned inward. If the Latkje were Grania - then what? She couldn't halt the cavalcade and announce her identity. Maybe the cavalcade would stop to rest and she'd be able to send a message to Grania - if it were Grania. Maybe Grania would see her and somehow arrange for a way to save her - then - maybe not - maybe it wouldn't be Grania at all - maybe Grania would pass by and never notice her.

_Do I want to go with Grania?_

She no longer thought of herself as Koraly Lebanon, but she couldn't forget that Grania, for good or ill, was her parent. Grania had set herself up as her guide. If they had a chance to be together again-

_Can I go back to the life Grania raised me for? Even if I were only her aide, do I want to see a court again?_

Court, masks and fans and missteps that could cost lives.

Would Grania even be there?

Altalo, close to the border, was a grander village than Telbor with a high sturdy wall. The top was lined with gawkers. Below the wall, people had spread cloaks and blankets next to the road, brought food, picnicking as they waited for the delegation to pass. The crowd was thickest closest to the road, but Kora wound her way through, finding a fairly good spot. She sat with her arms around her knees, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from her neck.

The outriders appeared after an hour and a half, greeted by catcalls and demands to see the famous nobles. Eventually, there came a rank of infantry from the Harmonian Regular Army, the butts of their halberds striking a steady beat. No one catcalled them.

When the carriages appeared, Kora realized her skin was cold from nerves, and as the crowd rose to wave and catch the best view, she rose too. The first carriage bore a coat of arms she thought she might remember from a list of Harmonian nobility, surrounded by outriders. One of these, a slight young man with long auburn hair, eyed the crowd indifferently, returning no waves. The next carriage was preceded by three lines of Harmonian cavalrymen, all bearing another family's crest on their waving flags. Kora bit her lip, watching as carriage after carriage passed, none with the Latkje crest. Now there was only a slow stream of riders dividing the main procession from the camp followers. Kora eyed these, relaxing with disappointment until she saw the flash of ceremonial blue and white.

Grania Latkje rode a gray-flecked horse. Kora wasn't close enough to see if she were more wrinkled after five years, how gray her hair was, if she still had that starved look that had possessed her in Crystal Valley's slums. But she recognized the bearing of the shoulders, the tilt of her chin, the casual wave that flicked from her wrist every so often.

Kora's mind was a morass of conflicting thoughts. She stared at Grania, not sure she was still breathing. _Look at me. I'm here, look at me. I didn't die in Caleria, I've survived, I'm all right, you're all right, look at me. _

Grania Latkje turned to the roadside, waving, her expression detached. Until her eyes met Kora's. Her eyes widened, and Kora saw her bite her lip. Then she lifted her head, smiled and rode on.

* * *

Geddoe was alone in the Telbor inn when Kora stepped inside. He lowered his glass slowly, which she assumed was the closest he came to registering surprise.

Kora pulled her hair-tie free and shook her hair out. "Didn't I say I would be back?" She hadn't, but he didn't mention it. Kora tapped her heel against the floor for a moment. Now that she'd made her decision to return to Caleria, she didn't feel any better about it. But really, she told herself over and over again, what should she do? She couldn't follow Grania. And with the delegation going through, the border guards would probably be on high alert, so she couldn't just run. And... after seeing Grania, after knowing both of them were safe, Kora wasn't sure she wanted to risk that feeling of well-being. Cutting loose would open her to all sorts of danger. Grania had worked hard to see her safely to Caleria. And now, Grania would know where to find her if...

Why hadn't Grania contacted her, now that she was out of the slums?

Kora chewed her lower lip.

_Who am I kidding? She probably assumed I was dead. I can't make it out there on my own, not yet anyway._

She dropped into the seat across from Geddoe. "Where are the others?" Geddoe half-shrugged. She wondered if he wanted her to leave him alone. She wasn't in a mood to feel polite. She wasn't in a mood to feel much of anything. "What's that you're drinking?"

He glanced at the bottle. "Iksay whiskey."

She stood and walked to the counter, which was currently vacant, returning with a glass. "Is it strong? Strong enough that I won't be able to say 'Iksay whiskey' after a glass?"

"I'd start off slow."

She hm'ed noncommittally and poured herself less than an inch, then stared down into the glass. She wished she hadn't heard about the cavalcade, hadn't keyed herself up, hadn't set her mind in so many different directions at once.

_Still, you learned Grania's alive. Alive and serving the same Harmonia that tried to kill her. Well, so are you_. She sipped the whiskey, which landed a nice punch between her eyes.

"So," Geddoe said after a moment, "are you happy freelancing?"

She let that one slip over her a moment, then realized what he was asking. She leaned back in her chair, eyeing him. "You want me to join the Twelfth Unit?"

"Units are more efficient when the members already know each other."

Kora tapped her fingernails against the glass. "I tried to run out on you guys in Resedan."

"Should I blame you?"

Her gaze dropped to the wooden whorls of the table. Then she looked up again. "I guess I can sign on, as long as I can stand it." She took another sip. "I notice you waited until after I'd taken a drink to ask."

He didn't answer. Very deliberately so.

* * *

She was sitting on the inn's front railing, taking in the evening, when Ace and Joker sauntered out of the inn. Joker smirked. "Heard the news from the captain. I knew you'd come over. You never could resist me."

Kora crossed her legs and swung her foot. "Keep that up and I'll sign myself right out."

"Wish this was a bigger town." Ace jingled his pockets. "You'll want to talk to the boss, he's just divvied out the pay."

"He paid me early."

Ace stopped jingling his pockets and looked at her, furrowing his brow. "He did? What'd you do...? No wait, I know." Then he whooped and clapped his hands together once. "Hot damn! Having a female in the unit has its benefits, I see."

Kora swung her legs over the railing, continuing the movement into Ace's chest. When he scrambled back up, she elbowed him in the jaw. "Listen you, I am a mercenary, not a prostitute, not your whore who's going to service anyone-"

"All right, all right, all right!" he yelped. "Okay, you're a consecrated virgin, I get it!"

"Consecration has nothing to do with-"

"Okay, you think we're all ugly shmucks, stop hitting me!"

She stopped hitting him, but she didn't step away. "You ever say anything like that to me again, and I swear on the Rune of Punishment there won't be enough left of you to bury."

"Heh." Ace cleared his throat, rubbing his bruised shoulder. "Well...y'know, I don't believe there _is_ a Rune of Punishment. I mean, the Runes don't care what we do, so why would they punish-" He backed away from her brandished fist. "But I do believe in _that_, okay? Okay? I'll be good, and you won't...stomp on me again."

Kora dropped her fist. "Fair enough."

Geddoe stepped through the door. "What's going on?"

Joker had crossed his arms. "I think this might be business as usual, captain."

* * *

They stopped by a small shrine to the Circle Rune on their way back to Caleria. Kora sat on the step in the cool entrance, not bothering to make any obeisance to the Rune's image. Joker lowered himself onto the grass. Geddoe leaned against a tree, and Ace paced. "You know," he said after a moment, and it took Kora a second to realize he was addressing her, "Ace, Joker and Kora doesn't really fit, does it? Why don't you take a...what'd you call, old man?"

Joker had assumed a meditating position, and he didn't open his eyes. "A rissul, and I'm not an old man."

"Yeah, one of those. You could be..." He looked at her carefully, as if fearing another punch. "Queen, or something."

Kora rubbed her ankle. "I'm the Queen?"

Ace spread his hands. "Hey, if you want to be Club or something, that's fine too. I'm just saying it's good to have unity. It'll make us a real team. Right, boss?"

"If you want to," was all Geddoe said.

Kora fingered one of her boot laces. She'd been Kora for years. Changing that now would certainly raise eyebrows. She dug her thumbnail into the side of one lace. Kora had been the name she'd chosen to start her life as a mercenary, one of the many roles Grania had offered her.

Grania had ridden away.

"Sure, why not?" Queen said.


End file.
